


Never Gonna Fall for Modern Love

by indevan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (none of the main/canon characters), Break Up, Drug Addiction, Established Relationship, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Infidelity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, make ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is such a curious thing.  Love is expensive and free.  Love isn't a cheesy song lyric and it's something all of them have to learn as they lurch into adulthood</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Can Talk to Me About Powderkegs

**Author's Note:**

> i was going to wait until i finished this to post it like i did with "or am i standing still?" but i couldn't hold out any longer

Night is when they meet.  It’s become a ritual, all of them coming together to meet at this pub--it really is a pub.  Tom is from Australia who came here because he found out his half-brother lived in Tokyo and wanted to reconnect with him.  It’s a sweet story, Kuroo thinks, but not one he really concerns himself with.  He likes the beer here, though, and the NRL games he plays on the tiny television in the corner of the bar.  In the years since he’s been coming here, he still hasn’t learned the rules of Rugby or deciphered what the announcers are saying but he and his friends have their teams they shout for while Tom shakes his head and cleans out pint glasses.

It’s a warm and dewy summer evening as he and Kenma approach the Union.  He keeps his arm around Kenma to guide him since he’s buried in his 3DS.  Granted, he’s only playing this device since his PSP is out of battery and because a new game is out.  The arm is an easy sort of touch--the kind they’ve known their entire lives.  It’s normal and yet Kuroo is.

“Oh?”

He cuts off his own thoughts and stops in front of the pub.  Outside the Union is a wipeboard mounted in the window.

“Tom’s serving food now.” Kuroo smiles. “Nice.  I’ve been waiting for it.”

Kenma makes a noncommittal noise and doesn’t look up.  Kuroo’s been coming here since his first year of university.  He couldn’t drink yet but Tom didn’t know the legal drinking age in Japan until he was in business for six months.  Kuroo always thought that was bad practice for someone wanting to open up a bar but he didn’t care at the time.  Kenma’s fingers flick over buttons and he bites his lip a little as Kuroo ushers him through the door.

Inside, Kuroo can smell grilling meat.

“Is he doing barbecue?” he wonders aloud.

His mouth waters at the thought.  Having a place for meat and beer is too good to be true.  Kuroo nudges Kenma with his hip.

“I know you haven’t eaten.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you don’t eat when I’m not there to make sure you eat and I was gone all day…”

Kenma lets out a low grumble deep in his throat but doesn’t say anything else.  Kuroo laughs.  Moving in together when Kenma graduated high school was just a logical progression.  He didn’t even question it.  Kenma didn’t go to college and he doesn’t work but Kuroo doesn’t mind.  He’s Kenma.  He would do anything for him.  Right now, “anything” is sitting him down at a table before he walks into something but it’s little things too.

The pub is almost empty this early in the evening but he sees Akaashi sitting at the bar.

“Don’t get too excited,” he says. “It’s just T-bone steak.”

“That’s it?”

He nods and stares down into his glass.  Kuroo leans against the bar and waits for Tom to emerge from the back so he can place his order.

“So what’s up?” he asks. “It’s been a while.  You and that guy still being cute together?”

“He’s being cute in Chiba,” he says and Kuroo detects the ice in his voice. “He’s in this summer program thing.”

Kuroo nods but, truthfully, he doesn’t care about Akaashi’s boyfriend.  He knows that Bokuto’s been in love with Akaashi since he met him and he’s been on his side of things since high school.  Honestly, he doesn’t even know the dude’s name and has referred to him in his head solely as “Obstacle.”

“Oh--in Chiba, huh?” Kuroo tries to picture that area. “Best surfing in the country.”

“You don’t surf.”

He makes his best offended face. “I’ve surfed.”

Akaashi sighs and stares back into his pint glass like it holds the mysteries of the universe.

“So is Tom cooking or did he ask his brother?”

Tom lives with his brother, who’s a university student, but he’s only rarely in the pub.  He’s a small, studious type with horn-rimmed glasses and a head of messy hair.  Hinata calls him “Takeda-sensei” since he can never remember his actual name.

“It’s me.”

The door to the kitchen swings open and Iwaizumi steps out.  Kuroo puts a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.  Iwaizumi has a scowl on his face and is wearing a chef coat that pulls tight on his shoulders and stomach.

“You’re the line cook?”

He folds his arms over his chest and cockes his head to the side.  The motion lets Kuroo see the way his forearms flex and he decides that it’s in his best interest not to make fun of him.

“Tom says that we’re only cooking them medium rare.”

“So you only have T-bone steaks and they’re only medium rare?” Kuroo shakes his head. “Why even bother with food in the first place?  And where is he getting these steaks?”

Iwaizumi shrugs and goes back into the kitchen.  He’s been distant lately but Kuroo isn’t close enough to him to feel like he can press.  And, as much as he likes riling people up, he values his physical and personal safety and so doesn’t try to rib Iwaizumi--too much.

Tom comes out from the backroom, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Oi, Tetsu,” he greets. “Asahi?”

Tom’s Japanese still isn’t that good but he can hold a conversation and he can understand them well enough.  Kuroo likes how he refers to all of them by their first names, too.  He nods.

“Who’s playing?”

“Tigers and Dragons.”

Kuroo lets out an excited cry and slides down the bar so he can get a better view of the TV.

“My boys!”

Tom is busying himself with filling Kuroo’s drink from the tap.

“One of these days you’re all gonna figure out the rules.”

“Nah.  I know how many points a touchdown or whatever is and that’s enough.”

Tom shakes his head and slides him his glass.

“And him?” He gestures to Kenma who’s perched on the edge of his seat like a gargoyle, his elbows on the table and his gaze focused on his game.

“I was gonna get him food but you only have T-bone steaks.”

“Yep!”

He grins and turns towards the TV.

“If you’d all learn, some of you wouldn’t make bad players.  Like Hajime would make a killer center.  And Kou wouldn’t be bad either.”

“I like not being snapped in half, thanks.”

“Your lanky ass?  Come off it.”

Kuroo tips his glass to him and goes back to the table.

“So the food is--”

“T-bone steaks.  I heard.”

Kenma doesn’t look up from his game.  Kuroo sinks into the seat and nurses his beer.  His tab is one he shares with Bokuto and it hasn’t been paid in two months.  Tom doesn’t get on them about it, though.  At least he won’t for another month.

“Wanna go home after this?  I’ll make you something.”

The only answer he gets is a shrug.  Kuroo peers over the rim of his glass and watches Kenma’s profile.  He has delicate features, he thinks.  He pushes back a hank of hair and resumes his game.  Kuroo bites his lip and sips his beer.  He’s known Kenma his entire life but he’s never really gotten a good look at him.  His features are as familiar as the sun and yet.  He continues to drink, vaguely tuning into the garbled, staticky yelling on the TV.  Kenma doesn’t like it when he bugs him too much while he’s playing.  When he’s finished, he tosses Tom a tip and says good-bye to Akaashi who’s still moping.

On the way back, he steers Kenma gently along and catches sight of his low battery light.  Kuroo can’t help but cringe.  He doesn’t let his phone get below 75% but Kenma will play a game until it just shuts down.

Their apartment is a short walk from the Union, which is probably another reason why they go to it so often.  It’s small but it’s cozy and all three of them have their own space.  Granted, Kenma’s space is the futon nest he’s created on Kuroo’s floor but that’s neither here nor there.

He opens the door and calls, “We’re home!”

Kenma begins to retreat to his room where his charger is but Kuroo grabs his hood and steers him towards the kitchen instead.

“Save,” he instructs him. “And plug it in.  You’re eating real food.”

A laugh comes from the couch and that’s all the indication he needs to know that Bokuto is home.  Kenma mumbles something but turns off the device and hands it over.  Kuroo doesn’t like being short with him but he needs to get up and move and actually eat.  He plugs it in and heads back towards the kitchen.

He passes by Bokuto on the couch and pauses.  His roommate’s hair is wild in a way that looks like he didn’t use his usual gel treatment.

“How long have you been up, Bo?”

Bokuto turns and looks at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t remember.”

Kuroo breathes a long sigh.

“Have you eaten?”

He thinks about it for a second and then nods.

“Akaashi was at the Union,” he says as he goes to the kitchen to fix something for Kenma.

Bokuto being manic is something he can’t control but at least he’s eaten.

“Yeah?”

“What’shisface is away in Chiba.  He’s sad about it.”

He hears Bokuto groan.

“I hate that he’s sad.” He hops up from the couch and follows Kuroo.

Kuroo stick his tongue out in mock disgust.  A quick survey of the pantry just tells him that they need to go shopping.  He opens the freezer and finds a package of Tsukemen.  He sets aside the sauce and noodles and gets it in the microwave.  Kenma perks up when he sees the blue and white package, his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

“See?  Who’s better than me?” Kuroo slides into the chair next to him and brings his face close to Kenma’s.

He smiles at him and leans in an extra millimeter and Kuroo’s heart shudders.

“Thank you.”

Kuroo pulls back and smiles broadly.

“So Akaashi.”

Bokuto hops up on the counter and kicks his feet.  As he does, one of his house slippers nearly comes off.

“Yeah...I mean, I love him but.  If he’s happy with this guy, I’m not gonna push things.  I can just be his friend...”

He sighs and lets his head fall back, nearly knocking it on the cabinets.

“Being in love is the worst.”

Kenma nods and quietly says, “Yeah.”

Kuroo doesn’t know what to make of that.

\--

Kenma has been in love since his third year of high school.  Kuroo was gone and there was an aching in his chest that he couldn’t put a name on.  Kenma has never felt romantic or sexual feelings but Kuroo is.  It transcends that.  In middle school, it was different.  He had the knowledge that they would be reunited in high school.  University was a different world.

When he graduated, Kenma just turned up at his place and Kuroo took him in, no questions.  By then, he had fully realized his love but that he let him stay and didn’t ask why he wasn’t going to school made him love him more.  He sat with him while Kuroo did his biology homework and is still with him as he contemplates going for his Masters.

Sometimes he wonders if Kuroo feels the same way.  Moments like last night when he was making him food.  Kuroo was close enough to kiss and Kenma almost did.  On the other hand, he’s nervous.  He knows Kuroo has a high sex drive and Kenma’s is nearly nonexistent.  Would pursuing him be selfish if Kuroo...he’s getting ahead of himself.

“Uaah!”

Hinata’s excited cry drags him from his reverie.  Kenma glances at him from over the tops of his bent knees.  Hinata is on all fours and looking at his newest games.  Or maybe it’s Kuroo and Bokuto’s movie collections.  He’s never quite sure what’ll catch his best friend’s eye.

“Where is he?” he asks.

“Union.”

Hinata nods.  Kenma is in a bout of not wanting to go outside.  He gets like this sometimes and Hinata is always willing to accommodate him.

“Kageyama’s there tonight.”

“You still call him Kageyama.”

He shrugs and widens his eyes.

“I dunno.  He doesn’t like being called Tobio all that much.  Except when…” Hinata smiles mischievously.

Kenma wrinkles his nose.  Fuckfest.  Hinata sits up and the collar of his oversized, overwashed sweatshirt slips down to reveal a sun-kissed, slightly freckled shoulder.  The sweatshirt is probably Kageyama’s, he thinks.  Kenma thinks to when he wears Kuroo’s clothes but it doesn’t have the same connotations.

“How is it?” Kenma asks.

“Us?” Hinata blinks his eyes and then settles back on his knees. “It’s...something’s up, I think.”

He tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt from where it falls down his thighs.  Kenma watches his nervous gestures and flicks his gaze to his face where Hinata is worrying his teeth on his lower lip.

“He’s been kind of...grr...lately.  And kind of…” He makes a buzzing sound. “I dunno.”

“Isn’t he always…” Kenma makes a fiddly motion with his hand.

“Different,” he says sharply. “I can’t…”

Hinata sighs and lays down on the floor.  Kenma stretches out next to him, their faces close.  He likes being close to Hinata like this.  It’s soothing.

“I wish he’d tell me,” he says quietly.

Love is mean, Kenma thinks.  Wanting it and not having it or having it and it being tested.  Kageyama and Hinata are those special kinds of soulmates.  The kinds you read about.  The kinds movies are about.  They go beyond time and reality and no matter how many universes are out there, Kenma is sure that the constant is that somehow, some way, Hinata and Kageyama will find each other.  And he isn’t sure that that’s for him.  Kuroo is...his thoughts are flying here and there and he can’t really make sense of them at the moment.  He just knows that that isn’t the case for them and it doesn’t make him happy or sad.  Kuroo is in his life regardless of his love and Kenma figures he’ll just have to settle for that.

Later, Hinata’s asleep next to him on his futon and Kenma curls up around him, his mind still on their conversation.  He can hear Hinata’s even, deep breaths and knows that he’s asleep.  He’s glad.  Kenma himself is plagued by insomnia.  Kuroo’s bed above them is empty.  He’s probably out with someone or, hopefully, still at the Union.  Kenma doesn’t care who he sleeps around with but his heart is cracking in weird ways thinking about it now.  Somehow things are different and he can’t figure out why.  The thing with the frozen noodles?  It’s silly and nonsensical and it makes him want to scream.

The door to the apartment opens.  Kenma crawls out from under his blankets and out from Hinata’s outstretched arms and legs and pads into the living room.  Kuroo stands in the doorway holding an unsteady Bokuto.  Their faces are flushed and they’re laughing about something.

“Kuro.”

“Kenma,” he slurs and stumbles forward, nearly dropping Bokuto.

Bokuto lurches forward and starts taking off his shoes.  Kenma stares, not sure what to do.  They’re drunk but not unbelievably so.  Bokuto will giggle and fall into bed.  Kuroo will…

“I’m spending the night in Bo’s room, okay?”

Kenma nods numbly.  He’s used to this.  Kuroo and Bokuto being each other’s friends with benefits.  He’s never minded it because at least knows where Kuroo is.  Knows who he’s with and that it’s someone who’ll take care of him.

“Alright.” He pauses and looks to the side. “Shouyo’s over.”

“Okay.  You can sleep in my bed if you want.  I know he tosses and turns a lot.”

Kenma nods and Kuroo leans in to press a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek.  He watches them go into Bokuto’s room.  Watches them close the door.  He walks back into their room and crawls into Kuroo’s bed.  He wraps himself up in the blankets and tries to fall asleep.

\--

Iwaizumi doesn’t have to stay until close but he does.  He has to clean the grill and help Tom out because there’s really no one else that works in the pub and he’s not going to leave him stranded.  He has to usher out the stragglers.  Tonight it’s Kuroo, Bokuto and, surprisingly, a few people he doesn’t know.  If Tom had his way, the Union would be open twenty-four hours and so Iwaizumi’s glad he took him on.

It’s not like he’s been doing anything, after all.  He’s been stagnating since college, it feels.  He’s taking a gap year before he starts in on his med schooling but he’s afraid to go back to it.  This, helping out Tom, it’s easy.  It makes sense.  Iwaizumi likes his life being easy and sensical.  Still, he can’t put it off forever.

“See you around.”

He waves Tom off and starts towards the station.  His apartment is only two stops from the Union, which makes things a lot easier.  Iwaizumi checks his phone and sees that, if he hurries, he’ll make the earlier train.

As he walks, he can’t help but let his mind wander back to high school.  He would always have to carry two tickets since Oikawa could never get it together to get a prepaid card.  He would always place his hands together and whisper, “thank you” every time he did.  Oikawa could be laser-focused in one thing but then completely scatter-brained in another.  It used to drive him up the wall but he misses it.  He would never say it out loud but he misses Oikawa.  He hasn’t heard from him in at least a year.  For a while, he used to badger him in e-mails and on video chat but the time difference finally seemed to get to him and he stopped.  Iwaizumi doesn’t miss the constant vibrations of his phone one bit--not at all.

For what it’s worth, he hopes he’s doing well.  UCLA is supposed to have a good volleyball program, which is why they offered him a scholarship.  Why he left Japan--and him.  Iwaizumi scowls at his own thoughts.  Oikawa didn’t leave him because there was nothing to leave.  They were friends, after all, and not anything more.

He arrives as the train is pulling in and smiles at his own luck.  Soon he’ll be at his apartment and be able to eat his microwave noodles in his underwear.  Iwaizumi takes the steps two at a time and feels the pain in his lower back.  He winces and rubs at it.  He had been standing all night.  Thinking about it, his feet hurt as well and he flexes his toes in his shoes to try and ease some of the pain.

He’s still rubbing his back as he approaches his building.  He spies someone sitting on the steps, in the shadows between the streetlights.  Iwaizumi approaches slowly, wondering if it’s someone who forgot their key or came home drunk or both.  As he gets closer, he sees that the person has a suitcase and a pang of pity shoots through his chest.  Their plane was too early or too late and the person they’re waiting for is asleep.  Iwaizumi is about to offer the mystery person help when he gets close enough to really see them.  They’re still mostly in shadow but he can make out the outline because he could make out that person’s profile from a mile away.  The long, graceful neck and the broad shoulders that tapered down to a slender waist.  The toned, athletics legs always on display in some kind of shorts.  The flippy, floppy brown hair that he claims is natural but Iwaizumi knows he styles every day.  Right now, that hair is hanging in his face and he’s drawn in on himself on those stairs but Iwaizumi still recognizes him.  Getting closer, he can see his face drawn in and sad.

“What are you doing here?”

Oikawa looks up and his eyes go wide and he stares at him as if he isn’t sure that he’s real.

“Iwa-chan!”

He jumps to his feet and almost collapses.  Iwaizumi catches him and sighs.

“You haven’t eaten.”

He shakes his head.  He sighs again.  He can’t even be properly shocked at his arrival if he’s going to be like this.

“I’ll get you orange juice,” he says and moves past him to unlock the door. “Come on up.”

Oikawa shoulders his bag and follows him into what constitutes the lobby.  It’s really a small square room with a wall of mailboxes but Iwaizumi will take it since the place gives him the opportunity to live alone.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.  He presses the button for the elevator.  At this time of night, he figures it’ll come relatively quickly.

“Your parents gave me your address.”

“That’s not what I mean.  What are you doing  _ here _ ?”

Oikawa looks at him very seriously and says, “I came home, Iwa-chan.”


	2. George Harrison Asked Us What is Life and Haddaway Asked Us What is Love

Iwaizumi isn’t sure what to do with Oikawa here so he takes him with him to the Union.  He doesn’t seem to have any plans for why he’s back so he tags along willingly.  Iwaizumi sits him at the bar and gives him a diet soda.

“I want to see you back there grilling meat, Iwa-chan,” he says with a devilish smile.

“I’ll grill your face,” he mumbles half-heartedly and disappears into the kitchen.

Iwaizumi closes his eyes and leans against the wall.  Out of everything, he didn’t expect Oikawa coming back and showing up at his front door like little boy lost.  He’s asked him why he’s back and he won’t answer or just says things like “I was homesick.”  Iwaizumi hasn’t seen him since they were nineteen and he’s talking about being homesick.  It isn’t just that.  It’s what he thinks of  _ him _ .  Oikawa is a hotshot volleyball studying abroad.  Iwaizumi is a nursing student taking a gap year and working as a line cook in a crappy, English-style pub.  He takes his chef coat off of the peg and pulls it on over his t-shirt.  That’s another problem, he thinks, as he buttons it.  He knows he’s broad through the chest and shoulders with well-muscled arms but he’s gotten soft in his midsection.  Oikawa is as toned and athletic as he was in high school.

He closes his eyes again and swallows nervously.  He isn’t sure why it matters or why he should care about his opinion.  Oikawa is Oikawa.  Iwaizumi breathes deeply and goes to the freezer to see about the steaks.  Only a few people order them and he’s pretty sure that it’s out of novelty.  He mostly spends his shift sulking in the back or washing glasses.  He’s only here to help Tom, after all, and have his tab taken care of.

He hears loud cries outside the kitchen and exits out to see Oikawa’s been set upon by Kuroo and Bokuto.  Kenma is nowhere to be seen but Iwaizumi figures he’s going through a bout of agoraphobia.  Since high school, he’s gotten to know Kuroo and his best friend quite well--in addition to their various accessories.

“What are you doing?”

“Introducing him to NRL.” Kuroo flashes that cheshire cat grin of his and jerks his head to the side to shake his bangs from his eyes.

Oikawa draws his finger through the condensation on his glass.

“There’s a team called the Eels, Iwa-chan.” He laughs and Iwaizumi’s stomach dips.  It’s been some time since he’s heard Oikawa’s laugh.

“Can you get him a beer?” Bokuto asks.

He tips his own glass into his mouth and slams it on the bar.

“I’m not the bartender,” he replies. “And Oikawa doesn’t drink.”

His eyes soften and he smiles a bit as he drinks his soda.

“Not anymore.”

That’s a surprise.

“You started?”

He remembers a party from back in high school when they had to run a very wasted Mattsun around to sober him up.  Maki had asked Oikawa why he never drank and he’d said, “I want to be the first man in my family to make it to forty and still have his liver.”  That he’s started makes him worried.  It’s a nostalgic worry, of course.  It’s been some time since he’s worried about Oikawa--or at least admitted to himself that he’s worried about Oikawa.

“For a little while.  College life, you know.” He smiles brazenly and leans his elbows on the bar.

Iwaizumi knows he’s lying but he doesn’t know why.  Oikawa has very obvious tells when he’s lying like how he smiles too much and how he fiddles with his hands.  Right now, he’s tearing up the paper coaster and grinning like he’s advertising toothpaste.  Still, he doesn’t know why he’s lying except for what he knows.  Oikawa lies to keep up appearances and it takes a hammer and chisel to find the real him beneath all of his hard, defensive layers.  Iwaizumi chipped away at it long ago but it seems that he’s going to need to start all over again.

“Hey, can I have a steak?” Bokuto says with a giggle.

Iwaizumi glowers but at least now he has an excuse to make an escape and assess how he’s feeling.

\--

Akaashi isn’t bitter that his boyfriend of two years just went to Chiba with a group of poncey fucks to piss away the summer while he sits at home with his goblets of coffee and thick tomes, trying to work on his thesis.  He’s not bitter at all--he misses him.  Fukuhara’s been on his mind since he came into Akaashi’s Medieval Literature class and charmed him off his feet.  Still, he’s upset that he’s in Chiba and Akaashi is in Tokyo and it’s a two hour drive to where he’s camped out on his artist’s retreat.

He curls up in his chair and looks distastefully at the stack of books he’s reading through for his courses.  He takes his phone out and cycles through the mails from Bokuto expressing his idle thoughts during the day.  It makes him smile.  For all his bluster, he’s glad that he’s still around.  Akaashi’s third year was far too quiet without him there.

He pages down in his contacts and finds the number he wants to call.  While it rings, he shifts himself so he’s balled up further in his favorite, balled up position.

“Hey.”

The sound of Fukuhara’s voice over the line makes him smile.

“Hey, back.”

“What’s up?”

“I miss you.” He sighs and says, “I know we said that five weeks apart is a test of our commitment but things are absolutely boring around here without you and I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He hears him laugh on the other line.

“Slow down--run-on sentences are not our friends.” Fukuhara laughs again before he speaks. “I know we said that but what were we thinking?”

He laughs a third time and tells him about his nasty prick of a retreat leader, Kitoaji.  Akaashi only knows him vaguely through the arts department at their school through reputation alone and it’s enough to sympathize with his boyfriend’s plight.

“What have you been up to?” he asks. “Let me guess: going to the Union?”

“And working on my thesis,” he says, wounded. “Bokuto-san--”

A long sigh.  Akaashi doesn’t know why his boyfriend dislikes Bokuto.  He can be a bit much but he means well and is always a good time.

“What?”

“Nothing.  Just...he’s always around, isn’t he?”

Akaashi shrugs. “We’re friends.”

Bokuto has taken it upon himself to jolly Akaashi out of his dour moods lately.

“Just...I dunno.  Hey, I have to go help Inoue-kun with his project.  I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

His heart sinks but he says, “Okay.  I love you.”

“Love you, too--and see you soon, alright?”

“Yeah.”

They hang up and Akaashi releases himself from his balled up position.  It shouldn’t be bothering him but it is.  Fukuhara seemed a little distracted on the phone but he doesn’t know how busy this retreat is.  His boyfriend is in the masters program for studio art, after all.  He stares at his phone and instead starts replying to Bokuto’s e-mails for something to do.  He isn’t sure why it is, but reading them over always puts a smile on his face.

\--

There’s something about heat lightning that quiets something in Kenma’s chest.  He thinks about when he was little--vivid memories from when he was two or three and how he felt like there was a batter in his chest connected to the outside world.  When he was hurt, he would feel it shred and ache and tear and he would look in the mirror and be surprised to only see smooth skin.  He never talked about it and it’s only the vaguest, foggiest memories.  Memories like pretending to be a cat on the floor of his kitchen, remembering only the geometric patterns in the linoleum and the grit of dirt under his hands.

Even then, he remembers being calmed by heat lightning.  It’s all that power in a way that can’t hurt him.  He watches clouds throb and sees the purple-yellow light flashing and it makes him feel good.  His and Kuroo’s apartment has a little balcony and he sits on it, sticking his legs through the railings.  Above his head the heat and humidity makes lightning jump from cloud to cloud and he savors it.  He sees the arches of light and he thinks that with the blobby-looking clouds, it looks like brain synapses.  Kuroo always called him the brain.

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against the railing.  It’s muggy outside and he’s pretty sure he’s getting bitten by bugs since his legs are bare but it feels good.  Kuroo’s asleep but his own insomnia hit him and so Kenma went outside to the mugginess of a summer night and heat lightning.

The air is dewy and clings to his skin.  He’s wearing Kuroo’s old Nekoma sweatshirt because it’s long enough to where he doesn’t have to wear pants.

A frantic knocking at the door makes his spine fuse.  Kenma grips the railings tightly with his hands, the quiet gone and replaced with icy, metallic anxiety.  He can taste it in the back of his throat and his chest is constricting already.  He finds himself looking down at the dizzying cityscape beneath him.  It’s too hot and cold at once.  One by one, he pries his fingers off of the railing and starts to walk back in.  His legs are like jelly and he nearly crashes right into the couch.  Kuroo is out of his room looking grumpy.  He stops between the door and the couch and notices Kenma’s unsteady form.  He approaches him cautiously, hands out and palms up.

“It’s Bokuto,” he says. “He texted me to say that he left his keys here.”

Kenma nods numbly and feels the knot in his chest start to unravel.  He’s reminded of his battery, the one he never told anyone--not even Kuroo--about.  He knows it’s not there and that it never existed but there’s a rawness in his chest like he had been gripped by an icy hand.  Kuroo unlocks the door and Bokuto stumbles in.

“Asshole,” he says. “You freaked the shit out of Kenma.”

Bokuto’s bronze eyes find his and they widen.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Ken.  Are you alright?”

He nods, unsure what else to do.  Bokuto is still apologizing but Kenma’s kind of tuned out.  He’s not mad--Bokuto acts impulsively when he’s manic and it’s always impossible to stay mad at him.  The anxiety has passed for the moment and, as far as his attacks go, it wasn’t that bad.

Kuroo comes towards him and lifts his arm.  Kenma nods his assent and he settles it around his shoulders.

“You wanna attempt sleep?”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug and then nods.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” he asks quietly.

“With me?”

He nods.

Kuroo gets this funny look on his face but his features righted themselves too quickly for Kenma to be sure.

“Yeah, alright.”

Kenma leans into him and closes his eyes, savoring the feel.  In bed, he turns so he and Kuroo are facing and presses his forehead into his chest.  He turns so he can listen to the watery thud of his heartbeat as he attempts to fall asleep.  Kuroo, perhaps instinctively, puts his arms around him and he isn’t sure what to make of that.

\--

“It would be nice if I didn’t have to go a full night without seeing you.”

Kuroo leans back in his stool and grins.

“You love us.”

Bokuto nods and throws his legs up onto Kuroo’s lap.  Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“Like I love infectious diseases.”

They laugh and high five.  Kenma glances up from his game for a second before he resumes playing.  The pub is crowded tonight.  Other than Kuroo and Bokuto, he’s sat Oikawa at the bar and Daichi and Sugawara are at a table, sitting very close and looking like an advertisement for true love.  Iwaizumi curls his lip and wonders if Tom would mind if he squirted them with a spray bottle like a cat.

“Iwa-chan...can you get me a Diet Coke?” Oikawa fans his hands under his chin and flutters his eyelashes.

He glowers at him but gets an idea.  Iwaizumi turns to the soda fountain and pours Oikawa a glass of Diet Pepsi.  Tom offers soda for free, at least, so he doesn’t have to put Oikawa on his tab.  He hasn’t mentioned anything about a job back in California or any source of income.  Knowing Oikawa, he’d just change the subject.  He passes the glass to him and leans against the counter.

“Can I get another beer?” Kuroo asks.

“No.  I don’t pour beer.  Talk to Tom.”

Hearing his name, Tom waves from over where he’s watching the TV.  Kuroo pouts and leaves the bar to sit at the table with Kenma.  Bokuto hops after him, taking his still half-full beer glass.  Iwaizumi heaves a sigh of relief.  When those two are together, it’s too much.  Daichi watches them with bemused fondness and has his arm around Sugawara’s shoulder.  Not for the first time, Iwaizumi is struck with relief for the Union.  It was a safe place where they could be more open.  Tom was gay, Iwaizumi knew, and it made things a lot easier for them.

“You’re so cranky, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa clucks his tongue and smirks.

He leans in and takes a sip of his soda and then inelegantly spits it all over the bar.

“Iwa-chan!”

“What did you do?”

Daichi approaches the bar with his and Suga’s empty glasses.  One eyebrow is cocked as he reaches forward to place the glasses on the counter.

“I gave him Diet Pepsi instead of Diet Coke.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan.” He pouts and folds his arms.  Iwaizumi tries not to look because there isn’t a weapon forged by man that can stand up to Oikawa’s pout.  Over the years, he’d built up an immunity but with years of no exposure, he has to build back up his tolerance.

“That’s what you get for ordering me around.”

“Is there a difference?” Daichi asks.

“Is there a difference?!” Oikawa shouts so loudly that even Kenma looks up from his game. “Diet Pepsi tastes like sewage!”

“I’m surprised Iwaizumi didn’t just switch you for regular Coke.”

Oikawa’s eyes go wide. “He’d never.”

Iwaizumi folds his arms over his chest and nods. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Oikawa’s diabetic.”

“Oh!  Oh--sorry.”

Sugawara shakes his head.

“Way to look like an asshole, Daichi.”

Daichi turns his head sharply, his cheeks tinted red.  Iwaizumi furrows his brow.  That’s odd.  Still, whatever it is, it’s not any of his business.  Sugawara smiles cheekily and props his chin up on his hands.  The look on his face is almost like he’s daring Daichi to say something.

“Let’s go home, Suga,” he says quietly.

He gets up from the table and fans his hands out.

“As you say, Daichi.”

Iwaizumi watches him pay their bill and exit.  As they leave, someone comes in.  Oikawa slumps over his seat and stirs his soda furiously.

“Hello, Tobio-chan…”

Kageyama blinks in confusion.

“Oikawa-san?”

He skirts along the tables and slips next to Bokuto.  Iwaizumi thinks it’s for the best.  Oikawa has his lips twisted in a sneer.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Don’t lie, Tobio-chan, you’re not very good at it.” Oikawa turns away from him and smiles at Iwaizumi in this disarming way. “So, Iwa-chan, how about an actual Diet Coke?”

\--

Kageyama rubs his eyes tiredly as he rides home on the train.  He wasn’t expecting to walk into the Union and see Oikawa.  Last he heard, he had gotten a scholarship to UCLA and Kageyama thought he’d never see him again.  But there he was with soda on his shirt and a smug smirk on his face.  Kageyama doesn’t know where they stand now but the sight of him still makes him feel like a mouse in a cage with a python.

His train pulls into his stop and he gets up to exit.  His hands are beginning to shake so he puts them in his pockets as he mounts the stairs to reach the street.  Kageyama jogs the three blocks to their building and the elevator can’t reach their floor fast enough.  It’s late but he knows that Hinata is still up waiting for him.  Yachi is at the hospital, doing an overnight shift for her medical internship.

“You’re back soon.” Hinata pops his head out from the doorway to their bedroom and grins. “Miss me?”

He nods and then jerks his head towards the bathroom.

“Gotta shit.”

“Say  _ poop _ \--ugh!”

Hinata sighs and ducks back into the room.  Kageyama slips into the bathroom and locks the door behind him.  His hand still shaking, he takes the bottle down from the medicine cabinet and pops two pills in his mouth.  He closes his eyes and, for good measure, takes two more.  Once his vision feels fuzzy and his brain is cushioned, he emerges from the bathroom.  Before he left, he flushed the toilet to maintain his story.

He makes his way into the bedroom where Hinata is texting Kenma.  He doesn’t know for sure that it’s him but then again he does.  It’s always Kenma.  He crawls into bed next to him and toys with the hem of Hinata’s boxers.  He looks over and smiles slightly.  Hinata puts his phone on the nightstand.  He strokes his fingers down Kageyama’s face and it almost pierces the numbness that has settled in.

“I missed you.”

“You can come with me to the Union.  Kenma was there.” He doesn’t mention Oikawa.

“Maybe.”

He leans down and kisses Kageyama gently.  He reaches up one hand to push Hinata’s rebellious orange hair back.  Hinata pulls back and his brows knit ever so slightly.

“What?” Kageyama lets his eyes slip close--they feel so heavy--and he leans in.

“You’re smiling.”

“Am I?”

He raises his hand to his mouth and his fingers brush over his teeth.  He kneads his knuckles into his raised cheeks to try and get them to lower but it’s to no avail.

“It looks creepy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was hoping you would do that.”

Hinata leans down to capture his lips again and then it’s easy for him to break the smile.  He cups Hinata’s face with his free hand and inches it back until he can put his hand on the base of his skull.  Kageyama pulls himself up so he’s fully seated and lowers Hinata down on the bed.

“Someone’s excited,” he says with a soft giggle.

He makes a muffled sound against Hinata’s mouth.  He dimly registers his boyfriend’s hands touching him but everything feels cushioned like he’s in a silk cocoon.  With a grunt, he straddles Hinata’s leg and rubs himself up and down his thigh.

“Oh…” Hinata laughs and buries his face in the slope of Kageyama’s neck. “Tobio…”

Hearing his given name pricks something in his opiated mind and Kageyama increases his pace.  He and Hinata have been together since their second year of high school and sleeping together since their first year of university.  He knows his body regardless of what substances he’s operating on (not that he, of course, has a problem--it just helps him).  He knows what to do to make him moan and writhe beneath him and, in turn, Hinata knows what he likes.

Afterwards, they lie together and Kageyama’s head is beginning to pound again.  He thinks he’s building up a tolerance to the codeine.  He also knows he can’t keep stealing Shimizu’s prescription pad whenever she stays over.  People will get suspicious and think he has a problem.

“What are you thinking about?” Hinata presses his index finger against Kageyama’s forehead and extends his thumb.

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

“Well, yeah.” He smiles and snuggles against him. “But you’ve seemed…”

Hinata makes a little growling sound deep in his throat and Kageyama shrugs.

“It’s nothing.  It’s--we need to clean up, alright?” He stretches and pulls away. “I’ll run the bath while you get the shower ready.”

He gets up from bed and walks towards the bathroom because it’s easier than turning around and seeing the look on Hinata’s face.


	3. Love is Just a Lie Made to Make You Blue

Kuroo is nothing if not observant.  People like to forget that he is.  They lump he and Bokuto into a package deal where they’re interchangeable with one another.  The assumption is unfair to his best friend as well since it sells him short.

Tonight he had gone to the Union without the intent to drink.  His school had sent him e-mails about potential graduate programs and he came here for some kind of guidance.  He did well enough in school that his parents and others are sniffing for him to continue on and study infectious diseases or something useful.  He comes here since he knows that Iwaizumi is also in that stagnant, post-college confusion.  He’s surprised that Oikawa isn’t here tonight.  He’s been a fixture in the pub since he blew back into town a few days ago.  Kuroo figures that it has something to do with the fact that tonight is Iwaizumi’s day off.

Now he’s looking around to avoid thinking about the e-mails he printed out.  Akaashi is on his phone, probably talking to his tool of a boyfriend.  At the table next to his is the current subjects of his observation.  Asahi sips his drink and instinctively glances up every now and then when someone orders a beer.  He’s as he always was, as Kuroo remembers him.  No, it’s Daichi and Suga that catch his eye.  Everyone envies them.  Daichi was on his floor his first year of university and he got to know them.  The perfect couple.  Kuroo and his keen cat’s eye can see hairline fractures in their shiny veneer.  Daichi’s mouth twitches when Suga teases him rather than the usual good-natured smiles he treated them with back in college.  Suga, for his part, makes little minute sneers and scowls when Daichi says things.  They’re holding hands but it seems to be for show.  Kuroo feels bad.  It’s not that he wants them to break up, of course.

He stares down at the printouts (and the handy brochure that came in the mail the other day) and cradles his head in his hands.  What does he want to do?  He could go back to school, sure, and then what?  Become a scientist?  Dr. Kuroo?  And what about Kenma?  He’ll be studying harder and doing lab work and Kenma will be left alone.

Kuroo’s thought processes are interrupted by the door banging open.  He looks up to see two people come in with all the force of a hurricane.

“Shit, this place is cool!” Tanaka exclaims.

“It looks like Williamsburg,” Nishinoya adds with a laugh.

They’re hanging off of each other, grinning and laughing and Kuroo realizes that he hasn’t seen them since high school.  He would think they would have stuck around Torono after graduation but he had heard from Kagetora that they had moved to New York City.

“Asahi-san!”

Nishinoya almost dives across the table to reach his former teammate.  Tom watches this as he wipes glasses behind the bar and shakes his head.

“I like this kid already.”

Suga seems relieved at their arrival and so does Daichi.  Asahi, meanwhile, just looks alarmed but that could also be his face.

“What are you doing back?” Suga asks.

Tanaka turns a chair around and straddles it.  He runs his hand through his close-cropped hair.  Kuroo remembers him as Karasuno’s “shaved head guy” and that’s still true of the sides but the top of his hair has grown out a bit since high school.

“We’re going to tell them about the wedding!” Nishinoya props his head up in his hand and poses on the table.

All of the color drains from Asahi’s face.  Akaashi looks up from his phone briefly at the noise before he resumes texting.

“The wedding?” he squeaks.

Tanaka nods. “Yeah.  My family saw our announcement and demanded fly out here so we can celebrate in person.”

“You’re...you’re getting married?”

Nishinoya blinks and sits up, still on the table.  He toys with the blonde strand of dyed hair and laughs.

“Nooooooo.  Ryuu’s getting married.  To ChiChi.”

“Chi...Chi?” Suga asks.

Tanaka rolls his eyes and says, “That’s what he calls Chikara to bug him.”

Suga perks up and smiles--Kuroo notices that it’s genuine. “Oh--Ennoshita-kun.  Congratulations.”

Daichi nods. “Yeah, congratulations.”

Asahi is still biting his lip.  Nishinoya leans across the table and, he says it quietly but Kuroo can hear him when he says, “I wouldn’t get married and not tell you.”

They stare at each other and hold their eye contact for that extra second.  Kuroo’s mind goes to Kenma and he isn’t sure why.  Kenma in his little futon nest or the other night, swinging his legs on the balcony.  Kenma who’s always been there.  His first year of university was hard without seeing him every day.  When he turned up on his doorstep like a lost cat...Kuroo was never happier.  And why?

He blinks and tears his gaze away from Asahi and Nishinoya.  He needs to stop observing and get back to the brochures.  His thoughts of Kenma can wait.

\--

Asahi has always been a third wheel.  He’s been trailing around Daichi and Suga since they were first years.  Even before they were dating, Asahi was always on the edge--always not quite in.  Even now with the tension they were trying so desperately to hide, Asahi was a third wheel.  He’s gotten quite good at it.  He can have a fun time and hold a conversation and keep things going while looking away whenever Daichi and Suga hold hands around him.

Now, there’s four people at the table and one of them is Nishinoya and he doesn’t know what to do.  Tanaka has kept it from being a party of five, at least, and is drinking at the bar with that setter from Fukurodani.  From the outside, this looks like a double date.  Nishinoya has finally sat in a chair and he’s right next to him.  Daichi and Suga are clutching hands like it’ll fix all of their problems.

“So...how’s Brooklyn?” he asks.

“Good.” Nishinoya grins. “I work in a coffee shop--you know, one of those hipster shit places.  But they let me have my tattoos and piercings so it’s whatever.”

“Yeah.”

Nishinoya’s wearing a henley and Asahi wonders about those tattoos and what they’re of.  When he heard the announcement of the wedding, he thought it was Nishinoya.  He thought he had found a pretty, pierced, tattooed New Yorker girl to marry.  That he forgot all about Asahi and what was left unsaid and undone between them in high school.  When he graduated...Nishinoya shaking sakura petals out of his hair as he said “So that’s it?”  Asahi hadn’t known what to say then and he doesn’t know what to say now.

“Asahi-san.”

He puts his hand over top of Asahi’s.  He looks up into Nishinoya’s unflinching gaze.

“I missed you,” he says.  Lets out a breathy little laugh. “Back in New York, I’ve...I’ve gotten really good at being a third wheel.”

His heart thuds in his ears.

“I...don’t want to be.  Right now.” He laughs that same laugh again. “I want to be here with you.  Nee-san told us about his pub and how you might...so we...Tokyo, huh?”

Asahi nods.  Nishinoya smiles almost nervously and he’s surprised.  He’s so confident, so self-assured, that he thought he’d never get nervous.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

He nods again before he can think about it.  Before his head gets in the way and he’s thinking of everything that can go wrong.

“Our place isn’t far, I…” He’s worried about leaving Daichi and Suga alone but they aren’t actually alone.  He can give up being a third wheel for once.  And maybe Nishinoya can too.

He looks at Tanaka and takes out his phone. “I’m going to let ChiChi know to pick him up before he gets too messy.”

He looks up from it and smiles, big.

“Let’s go, Asahi-san.”

\--

Bokuto really doesn’t have the desire to go to the Union tonight but he has nothing else going on.  He knows Kuroo’s there, at least, so he won’t be bored.  He’s restless tonight, jumpy and jittery.  When the thoughts are good and his veins are filled with a silvery heat, he doesn’t mind it.  It’s a current spilling into his brain and crackling all over his body.  It’s when he doesn’t sleep and over exerts himself that things go bad.

He walks in and sees the usual crowd plus a few university students.  His gaze settles on Akaashi.  His phone is clutched in his hand like a buoy and he’s swaying side to side ever so slightly on his stool.  Next to him is Karasuno’s Tanaka who looks a little unsteady himself.  He bypasses Kuroo--who, honestly, looks distracted anyway--and heads to the bar.

“Akaashi?”

He hasn’t seen him drunk before.  A little buzzed?  Yes.  Not drunk, though.  He’s sloshing his drink on the bar and dabbing it ineffectually with cocktail napkins.  Akaashi looks up and works his lips over his teeth.

“Bokuto-san!” he exclaims and pitches forward. “Hey!”

“He’s pretty drunk,” Tanaka says with the grave seriousness of someone who is pretty drunk themselves. “He’s kind a fun but.  You should take him home.”

He snickers and crunches ice between his teeth.

“What about you?”

Tanaka waves him off.

“Someone’s coming for me.  Noya-san made sure.  Just get him home alright.”

He spins on his stool even though it isn’t a swivel stool and Bokuto can’t help but be a little impressed.

“Akaashi, I’m going to take you home,” he says, drawing himself back to the situation at hand.

Akaashi blinks at him very slowly and then nods.

“That’s a good idea.”

He slides off the stool and into Bokuto’s arms.  He swallows suddenly, nearly choking.  Akaashi’s got his head buried in his chest, the tips of his curls brushing against the bare skin revealed by Bokuto’s v-neck shirt.  He pushes him back gently so he can wrap a guiding arm around his shoulders instead.  As much as he wants to hold him, he knows he can’t.  Akaashi isn’t his to hold.

Bokuto keeps his arm around him to keep him on the sidewalk.  When first exiting the bar, he tried to let him walk on his own but he almost careened into traffic.  Akaashi doesn’t live too far from their apartment, which means that he doesn’t live too far from the Union.  He lives with his parents since their place was close enough for him to commute to university.  They work all the time, though, and during high school, Bokuto only rarely saw them.  He’s glad that they’re away on a trip right now and don’t have to see their wasted son as he staggers into the the house.

“Do you have your keys?”

Akaashi blinks at him and then bursts into tears.  Bokuto looks at him, surprised.  He’s never seen Akaashi cry before and...it’s not pretty.  His face is flushed from alcohol and now almost scarlet at his cheeks and nose from the tears.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto feels lost.  His thoughts are still zigzagging like a pinball but it’s getting more garbled, more staticky.

He shakily reaches into his pockets and pulls out his house keys.  He passes them wordlessly to Bokuto and slumps against the frame of the door.  He flicks through the keys, trying to find the right one and listens to Akaashi’s sniffles behind him.  Finally, he gets the correct key into the lock and opens the door.  He stands in the entryway, not sure if he should come in and take his shoes off.  Akaashi stumbles past him, hopping to get out of his sneakers.

“Are you alright?” Bokuto asks.

He turns and looks at him owlishly.

“I don’t know,” he says, voice cracking.

Akaashi sits down on the step that leads into the rest of his house and cradles his head in his hands.  Bokuto crouches next to him, wishing so much to brush the hair from his eyes or wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“My boyfriend is barely responding to my texts or, when he does, just seems really disinterested.” He lets out a hitched sigh. “I always have to initiate conversations and...I don’t know.  I feel like I’m not trusting him enough and I’m a bad boyfriend.”

“You’re not a bad boyfriend,” Bokuto says automatically. “You’re just worried and he’s hours away and...it’s not out of line.”

Bokuto’s never actually met his boyfriend but he doesn’t like him on principle--and not only because he’s in love with Akaashi.  He seems like a typical art major asshole.

“He’s not disinterested,” he continues. “He’s probably busy and maybe he doesn’t get good reception in Chiba.  I’m sure it’s nothing and he misses you, too.”

Akaashi sniffles and smiles slow and easy.  Bokuto remembers he’s still drunk and instinctively pulls back.  He wants to be with him but not if he’s upset about his boyfriend and wasted.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he says quietly. “I’m going to go to bed now.”

He rises and almost bumps heads with him.  Bokuto falls back on his heels and then his ass.  Akaashi bows.

“And thank you for walking me home.”

“Are you gonna be alright?”

He nods. “Yes.  I’ll have some water and sleep on my side.”

Bokuto gets to his feet and goes towards the door.  He drops Akaashi’s keys on the shoe cubby as he leaves.

“G’night.”

“Good night, Bokuto-san.”

He closes the door behind him and hears it lock on the other side.  Bokuto exhales into the still, warm air of the summer night and has to resist the urge to slam his head into the wall of the house.

\--

It’s rare for all three of them to be home at the same time.  Yachi’s internship keeps her at the hospital at odd hours so it’s just been him and Kageyama.  Not that Hinata minds being alone with his boyfriend but it’s nice when they’re all around.  Tonight there’s the added bonus of a Shimizu visit.  The two of them reconnected and started dating when Yachi began her internship so the relationship is still new.

“Thank you for having me,” Shimizu says in her quiet voice, a smile tugging on her lips.

“Aah!  I mean--you’re welcome.  I’m glad you were…” Yachi smiles shakily, more nervous than usual.

Shimizu trails her fingers down Yachi’s arm and leans in to kiss her.  She turns and starts to gather her things.  Hinata busies himself with tidying the table.  Yachi made dinner so he cleans up and Kageyama will do the dishes--if he ever comes out of the bathroom, that is.

“That’s strange…” Shimizu frowns and rifles through her bag. “I can’t find my prescription pad.”

“Wuah!” Yachi jumps a little and begins searching the living room in earnest. “It must be around here somewhere.”

Hinata looks around the kitchen but sees nothing.  He figures Yachi is only so invested so she can keep her girlfriend here a little while longer.  She’s a ball of anxiety but he knows how to differentiate between bad anxiety and good anxiety.  Shimizu being here makes her excited and jumpy but she also smiles a lot.

Kageyama comes in from the bedroom where he had been holed up in his and Hinata’s bathroom with something square-ish in his hand.

“Shimizu-san, is this yours?”

He holds it out and Hinata sees that it’s a pad of paper.

“Ah, yes.  Thank you, Kageyama-kun.  Where did you find it?”

“Floor.”

He looks away as he says it and purses his lips just enough.  Hinata narrows his eyes.  He’s lying, but why?  Shimizu says her good-byes and, as she is, Hinata goes into their bedroom.  He slips into the connecting bathroom and stops.  He has no idea what he’s looking for.  He scratches his hair and sighs.  Maybe he’s just looking for a reason behind Kageyama’s strange behavior--any reason.  Even with these doubts in his mind, he opens the medicine cabinet.  A bottle of pills nearly falls out as he opens the mirrored door and Hinata’s hand shoots out to catch it.  He turns it over and sees that they’re codeine pills prescribed to Kageyama.  The date is recent as well.  He frowns.  He can’t remember the last time Kageyama went to the doctor, let alone be in a way to get a prescription for pills.  He puts it back, deciding to bring it up later.

Hinata turns the light off as he leaves the bathroom and comes back into the living room to see that Kageyama has moved to doing the dishes and Yachi is fixing up the mess she made in the living room during her search.

He comes up behind Kageyama and puts his arms around his waist.  Hinata nuzzles his nose into his back and closes his eyes.  The rhythm of the water from the faucet and Kageyama’s breathing is almost enough to lull him to sleep right there.  There’s just the niggling doubt about whatever it is Kageyama’s keeping from him.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” he asks.

Hinata nods. “Yeah...Kageyama-kun?”

He grunts a bit in response.

“What are you taking pills for?” Or maybe he’ll bring it up now.

He feels Kageyama tense in his arms and he slows down washing the dishes.

“What pills?” he asks finally.

“The codeine in the medicine cabinet.  What’s it for?”

Kageyama doesn’t answer for a while.  He turns the faucet off and moves away from Hinata’s embrace to wipe his hands on the towel.

“It’s old,” he says finally.

“But the date is--”

“What are you, a detective?” he snaps. “Lay off!”

Hinata takes a step back.  Kageyama hasn’t yelled at him like that since their first year of high school.

“I’m just asking,” he says back, cursing how his voice sounds more hurt than angry.

Yachi looks at them wide-eyed.

“Oh, um...I have to…” She doesn’t even finish her excuse before she runs into her room.

Hinata balls his fists and stomps his foot.

“You’ve been hiding something from me and acting all weird and I want to know why!”

“It’s nothing.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” He feels tears prick his eyes. “You can’t just lie to me like this!”

“I’m not lying!”

Kageyama’s eyes are like ice and his jaw is clenched tightly.

“Just tell me what the pills are for.”

He didn’t think that this conversation would turn into a full blown fight.  He was just curious and a little worried.

“I don’t have a problem!”

“I never said you did!”

Kageyama storms away from him, into the living room.  Hinata follows.  He’s crying now, tears of anger and frustration.  He loves Kageyama, trusts him more than anyone, and he’s lying to him.

“Tobio--”

“Don’t!” he snarls. “It’s fine.  Alright.  I’m just taking them because I’ve had some pain recently.  It’s nothing.”

It’s another obvious lie and one so quickly after his denial about having a problem--something Hinata had never even brought up.

“Did you take Shimizu-san’s prescription pad?”

The color drains from Kageyama’s face and he looks for a moment like he might cry.

“Shut up!” he says instead.

Hinata can’t deal with the yelling anymore.  His tears are streaming in hot tracks down his cheeks and he feels the pressure building.  He wants to tear his hair out.  He wants to jump so high he hits his head on the ceiling.  He wants to scream.  He shoves his arm in his mouth and bites down.  Kageyama grabs it and pulls it away.

“Stop it--you don’t have to--”

“Don’t touch me!” Hinata slaps his hands away.

The fight is getting away from them both.  Hinata can’t control himself and Kageyama can’t either.  He isn’t sure what to do or how it escalated so quickly.  He just knows that the true eruption is yet to come.


	4. Love Songs Suck and Fairytales Aren't True

Kuroo thinks he needs to get some kind of hobby or, at the very least, stop coming to the Union every night.  He isn’t even drinking tonight but he’s here anyway.  The Tigers are playing the Roosters but he’s only half paying attention.  His mind is too full of thoughts.  School and whether or not he’s going to go back.  Or if he should just get a job--a real one.  Interrupting those thoughts are thoughts of Kenma.  The way he smiles fondly at him when he cooks his favorite noodles or when he brings him a slice of pie from a fast food place.  How he curls around him like a cat when he can’t sleep.  Kenma who he’s known forever.  He doesn’t want to admit he has feelings for Kenma because admitting he has feelings for Kenma changes everything.  Their casual touches now Mean Something and Kuroo isn’t about putting pressure on him.

To get his mind off of it, he watches Daichi and Suga.  The two of them look like they’re balanced on the edge of a knife, or a cliff.  Kuroo inches forward in his seat since their drama is a good distraction from his own contradictory thoughts.

“Asahi’s out with Nishinoya again.  I think they’ve finally got the timing right.” Suga sips his drink.  It’s something amber-colored in a lowball glass.

Daichi grunts and grips his beer tightly.  Kuroo sees that his jaw bone is clenched and pulsing.

“Yeah…”

They fall silent and Kuroo hears a voice throatily say in his ear, “Should I get you popcorn?”

He almost jumps and turns to see Akaashi’s smiling face.  He looks better than he has in a week.

“Oh, hey.”

Akaashi slips into the seat next to him.

“What’s going on?” he whispers.

“I think they’re realizing that they’ve been using Asahi as a buffer to not deal with their problems.”

“Ooh.”

Daichi takes a long pull on his beer and swallows with a wince.  Suga stares into the depths of his glass.

“So.” Daichis sighs. “What are we doing?”

Suga shrugs and sips his drink. “I don’t know.  I think...I think we’ve hit a rut.”

“No shit.”

Kuroo shares a raised eyebrow look with Akaashi and, not for the first time, thinks he might be a bad person.

“Everyone thinks we’re the perfect couple and we bought into that.  We thought we couldn’t have problems.  That we don’t.”

Daichi nods along. “I don’t like how you snipe at me.”

“I don’t like how you talk without thinking.”

They drink at the same time.  Suga draws his finger through the ring of condensation on the table.

“I don’t want this to end...I still love you.”

“Yeah.  I still love you, too.”

Daichi rolls his bottle of beer between his hands and sighs.

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

They look at each other forlornly and Kuroo decides that he’s had enough eavesdropping and turns away.  Akaashi does likewise.

“I need a hobby,” he says, echoing Kuroo’s earlier thoughts.

“Yeah...how’re you?”

He shrugs. “Alright.  I’m just kind of.”

Akaashi shrugs again.  Kuroo can relate.  He watches him rifle his hand through his mess of dark curls.

“You wanna do something tomorrow night?” Kuroo twists one of his bangs around his finger and smiles.

He and Akaashi never hang out and maybe he can see if Bokuto wants to go.

He cocks his head to the side and then smiles. “Sure.”

\--

Kenma sits cross-legged in the middle of the living room.  Bokuto’s listening to music in his room and he can feel the vibrations through the floor.  He’s hunched over his PSP, the tinny music of his game almost drowned out by the pounding of the bass.  Kenma wonders how he can listen to music that loud.  Cranked pain pitch like that, it must be impossible even to hear.  Then again, Bokuto’s been in a mood lately and he figures it has something to do with Akaashi.  It always has something to do with love.  Kenma, meanwhile, simply tries to ignore his feelings for Kuroo.  If he ignores the feelings, he can keep things the way they are.  It’s not like Kuroo would want to be with him with his anxiety attacks and matted hair and their wildly different sex drives.  He’s fine being his friend, taking care of him like family, and Kenma has to learn to deal with that.

His legs cramp and he stretches them out in front of him.  He holds his PSP in one hand and rubs his knees.  He isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting here but, judging by the pain in his legs and the battery level of his PSP, it’s been a while.  He gets to his feet and stumbles from the influx of blood rushing to his head.  He feels dizzy and takes in a shaky breath.  He hasn’t eaten since Kuroo made him breakfast.  Kenma pads over to the fridge and opens it.  They still need to go grocery shopping but there’s a little takeout container with his name on it.  They’re Kuroo’s leftovers but he’s surrendered them to Kenma.  He takes the container to the table and opens it.  Cold fried rice glistens in front of him and he takes a pair of chopsticks from the drawer by the sink.  He thanks Kuroo for the food even though he’s not there.

He’s about to take his first bite when there’s knocking on the door.  Kenma lowers the chopsticks and frowns.  Kuroo wouldn’t knock that frantically and Bokuto’s in his room.  He wonders if it’s one of their neighbors complaining about the noise.

“Kenma!”

Hinata’s voice is muffled.  He goes to the door and opens it.  Immediately, his arms are full of his best friend.  Hinata buries his face in his shoulder and grasps Kenma tightly.  He stumbles back and almost falls on the floor.  Hinata looks up and wipes his nose.  The skin under his eyes looks bruised like he’s been wiping tears from them for too long.

“Sorry.  I shouldn’t have just grabbed you.” His voice is clogged and choked with tears.

Kenma nods. “It’s ok, Shouyo.”

He shuts the door and watches Hinata pull his shoes off.  He walks to the kitchen to put a kettle on for them.

“Sit down.”

Hinata follows him into the kitchen, still sniffling.  Kenma eats a little bit of rice while he waits for the kettle to boil.  Hinata, meanwhile, just draws his legs up as he sits on the chair.  He wraps his arms around them and lets out a shuddering sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Kageyama and I broke up.” His voice cracks and Hinata sounds so vulnerable that it makes Kenma’s heart aches.  It’s like the battery is back in his chest and it feels shredded and sharp.

“You what?”

“We broke up.”

Hinata bursts into tears, gulping loudly.  The kettle whistles and the combination of sounds makes Kenma put his hands over his ears.  He takes the kettle off to shut it up and pours the tea into a mug for Hinata.  He places it in front of him but his friend makes no move to take it.

“What happened?”

He thinks back to what Hinata said about Kageyama seeming off.  He didn’t think it would end like this.  Kenma eats quietly, lowering his head.

“Kageyama’s been taking these pills and I think he has a problem and we had a fight about it and it just...escalated.”

Hinata lowers his head and Kenma puts his chopsticks down.  He carefully lets his eyes roam over what of his body that he can see.

“Did he…?”

“What?” He glances up sharply. “No--no.  He hasn’t put a hand on me like that since we started dating.  He...he’s upset I caught him in a lie and he.  Sorry.  I just…couldn’t be with him if he lies to my face like that.”

Hinata takes his tea cup in both hands and blows on the steam.

“I’m sorry, Shouyo.” Kenma eats a little more rice and stares down at the container. “Do you want to stay here?”

Hinata looks at him, eyes wide and rimmed with tears, and nods.

\--

The music is pounding so hard around him that Akaashi almost feels it.  It’s been so long since he’s been to a club that he’s forgotten it.  The feeling of being lost in a group of people.  He’s on his own, by himself, and no one is within his orbit.  He’s in a huge crowd but he doesn’t feel claustrophobic.  He feels only the throb of the music in his chest.  He’s had a bit too much to drink, he knows, for the second time in a week.  Well, he reckons, he isn’t going to be young forever and he wanted to get out.  He’s been struggling with his thesis and doing nothing but walking within the same grid he’s always walked in, which is probably why he and Kuroo went to Nichome to go to the club.

“I like this place,” Kuroo said when he came over to get him earlier. “And I saw Tom here once--it was great.”

Now they’re drunk and giddy and on the multi-tiered dance floor of the club.  Akaashi feels like the technicolor lights are spinning in his head and he feels good.  He isn’t worried about Fukuhara--he trusts him.  He loves him.

“It’s nice seeing you cut loose.” Kuroo’s voice is a rumble in his ear. “Shame Bo isn’t here to see it.”

Bokuto.  Akaashi isn’t sure why the mention of his name makes his ears go red.  It’s probably residual embarrassment from having to be walked home the other night.  Kuroo had asked him to come but, purportedly, he was on a downswing and wasn’t keen on getting out of bed.  Akaashi can’t help but think that if Kuroo had asked him over, he could have helped Bokuto in some way.  That was his job in high school.

Now, it’s just the two of them (Akaashi had asked if Kenma was coming and Kuroo simply laughed) and a crowd of hundreds of strangers.  The music is good: some kind of electronica remix of a popular song with trippy tango music added in.  Akaashi is seeing twinkling stars and everything is amplified and muffled at once.

In the sweaty crush of bodies, he feels someone’s hands come at his waist.  He looks up and sees that it’s Kuroo.  He smiles that cheshire cat smile at him and Akaashi feels himself smiling back.

“Let’s dance,” he says, voice husky in his ear.

There’s no harm in dancing.  He feels Kuroo’s hips gyrate into him from behind and Akaashi leans back a little as he matches the rhythm.  He turns so they’re facing one another and--Kuroo is tall.  Taller than Fukuhara and taller than Bokuto.  Akaashi grabs his waist and brings their pelvises together so they can grind against each other.  The friction is doing something to Kuroo but only through the constant movement.  He lets Kuroo’s leg slip between his and he almost sits on it as he grinds against him.  Kuroo holds him by his back and draws him close.  The music throbs around them and Akaashi wonders when just dancing becomes something that he shouldn’t be doing because he has a boyfriend.

He looks up at Kuroo and blinks as if that would make his vision less soft-edged and blurry.  Kuroo is handsome, he thinks, if he can look past his hair.  His face is narrow and well-sculpted and his eyes...his eyes are golden and shimmering in the technicolor lights.  Akaashi swallows and stares at him.  Kuroo laughs breathily and he can smell the gin on his tongue.

He isn’t sure which one of them initiates the kissing but one moment they’re dancing and the next, they’re wrapped around each other, sucking one another’s faces off.  It might be because he’s drunk but he thinks that Kuroo is a fantastic kisser.  He’s cupping the back of his head and not just going in tongue-first.  He’s almost gentle.  Akaashi wraps his arms around him and deepens the kiss.  His head has fireworks going off in it.  He starts to pull himself away but Kuroo holds him fast against him.

“Mmmm,” he purrs into Akaashi’s lips. “Kenma…”

Akaashi leaps back and puts his fingers over his mouth.  This is bad.  This is bad for them both.  He feels sobered up like someone dumped cold water on him.  He kissed another boy when he had a boyfriend and Kuroo…

“Oh shit.” He shakes his head furious and a shudder goes through his whole body.  Akaashi can’t help but be reminded of a cat mad that it got wet. “I’m so sorry.  I...shit.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “We should go.”

“Definitely.”

\--

When Kuroo gets home, Kenma is still awake, hunched over his PSP.  He’s leaning against the couch and sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Hinata’s asleep on the couch above him, wrapped up in an owl-patterned blanket.  The sight of the blanket makes his heart lurch.  He did the one thing he shouldn’t have done: he made out with the love of his best friend’s life.  Sure, he and Bokuto have had a friends with benefits thing going on since college but he’s always really loved Akaashi and Kuroo’s done the worst thing he could have done to him.

“You’re drunk,” Kenma says quietly.

“A little.  I sobered up a lot on the train.”

Kuroo comes and sinks to the floor next to him.  He wants to tell Kenma everything but then he’ll have to tell him that he and Akaashi only stopped kissing because he said his name.  Then he would have to work around _that_ issue.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah.”

Kenma pauses his game and closes his eyes.  He rests his head on Kuroo’s shoulder and Kuroo places his on top of his.

“How’s Hinata?”

“Not good.”

Kuroo nods and puts his arm around Kenma’s shoulders.

“How are you?”

He makes a fiddly gesture with his hand.

“Insomnia?”

Kenma nods.  He puts the PSP down and leans into him.  Kuroo holds him tight.  He can never reveal his feelings, he realizes, because he can lose this.  He can lose this closeness.  And the thought of that is even worse than what will happen when Bokuto finds out he kissed Akaashi.


	5. Love, I Get So Lost Sometimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is honestly just all bokuaka all the time because i Burn. it also gets a bit spicy in there or about as spicy as i get because i'm bad at writing that

Akaashi awakens to the harsh light of day.  Groaning, he pulls his pillow over his head and squeezes his eyes shut.  Through the pounding in his head, the memories of last night come at him in staccato rhythm.  He sits up, ignoring how his blood rushes to his head as he does so.  He is the world’s worst boyfriend.  He’s a horny fuck who can’t deal with his boyfriend being away for a few weeks so he’ll stick his tongue down the throat of one of his best friends.  He puts his face in his hands and rubs his eyes with the tips of his fingers.  He can’t blame the alcohol, despite how wasted he was and how hungover he is.  He kissed Kuroo.  No, he didn’t just kiss Kuroo.  He grinded up on Kuroo, he rode his leg like a wanton piece of shit and then devoured his face.

He takes a long, blisteringly hot shower and drinks probably a liter of the strongest coffee he can brew and it seems to make a dent in his hangover.  Akaashi resolves, as he sits at the table and contemplates his nausea and ability to properly digest food that he needs to visit Fukuhara.

“Absolutely not,” his mother says when he calls her at work. “You are not taking the car.”

“But I need to go to Chiba today.”

“And I need to work to put gas in the car you seem to think you have part ownership of,” she says back. “Life’s not fair, Keiji.”

He sighs and slumps into the kitchen table, propping his elbow on the table so it can hold his mobile to his ear.

“Is this about the teeny scratch I put on the hood last time?” he asks.

“And the big dent in the fender I had to pay to fix.”

“But I don’t have money to take the train,” he says.  He doesn’t say that he used all of his allowance on drinks and the train back last night. “I haven’t reloaded my card.”

“Too bad, darling.  You’re not taking the car.  But if you find time in your busy schedule, can you put the washing in the dryer?”

Akaashi hangs up and sighs ruefully.  He wishes his parents were still out on a business trip but they had come home the other night.  He could sneak the keys and they’d be none the wiser.  He never really did anything particularly delinquent or rule-breaking, though.  Except, apparently make out with other boys.

He needs to get to Chiba--that’s obvious.  He needs to just talk to someone who has a car.  The thought comes to him within a moment and that’s why, ten minutes later, he’s standing outside Bokuto’s apartment building with his messenger bag stuffed to the gills.  No one is answering on the buzzer but Kenma never touches it and Kuroo is probably asleep.  It’s probably just as well that Kuroo doesn’t answer.  He doesn’t need to see him so soon.

“Akaashi?”

He turns and sees Bokuto coming up on the sidewalk towards him.  His gym bag is over his shoulder and he has a towel around his neck and his hair is down, flopping in his face.  He looks sweet like that, he thinks, when it’s not all gunked up into spikes.

“Bokuto-san.  Where were you?”

“The gym,” he says and lifts his bag as evidence. “What are you doing here?”

Akaashi sees him looking at his backpack and slides his gaze to the side.  He has to word this carefully.

“I need to borrow your car.”

It’s not so bad when he says it out loud.  Bokuto stares at him for a moment and then slowly shakes his head.  He looks at him sharply and not at all like his usual dopey, affectionate self.

“Akaashi, I might be in love with you but there is no way I’m letting you drive my car.”

He doesn’t have time to parse  _ that _ sentence because the frustration is mounting in him again and it’s compounded by desperation.  The tears are a surprise appearance and, before he knows it, he’s crying.

“Please--I need to go to Chiba.  My relationship is at stake!” he exclaims and his voice cracks, not used to being up that high.  Bokuto looks like he isn’t sure what to do.  He stares at him nervously and bites his lip before reaching into the pocket of his gym shorts to pull out a tissue.

“Here.  It’s clean.”

He passes it to Akaashi and he blows his nose into it loudly before handing it back.  Bokuto winces and shakes his head.

“I can’t let you take my car--you’re not insured and the gearbox does a weird thing when you shift down.”

“I can only drive automatic,” he wails.

Bokuto winces again like he just put his balls in a vice.

“Hey!” he says, suddenly brightening and seeming far more Bokuto-like. “I’ll drive you!”

Akaashi sniffles and looks up at him. “Really?”

He nods. “Yeah.  I’m not doing anything else today.  Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

He starts towards the door and Akaashi wipes away his tears.

“Thank you,” he says. “And what was that about saying you love me?”

“Haha--okay, see you in a few!”

He shuts the door, leaving Akaashi on the sidewalk.

\--

Akaashi has never actually been in Bokuto’s car.  It’s a cute little black Bug that’s vintage enough to be retro--old.

“I bought it off an ex-pat,” he says. “But there’s a Rush tape jammed in the stereo and I can’t get it off.  I’ve been using it to learn English.”

“How’s that going?”

“Not well.  I have no idea what they’re saying.”

Akaashi fiddles with the volume knob to turn down the nasal yelling.

“Do you know where he’s staying?”

“I think he said something about a campsite near Abiko?” He slips his fingers under the seatbelt to undo a twist and adds, “Thank you again, Bokuto-san.”

“Of course!  You looked really upset and, ‘sides, I’m not doing anything else today.”

He grins and his eyes crinkle up in this way that makes Akaashi smile back.  With the volume lowered on some song about trees, Akaashi tries dialing Fukuhara but it won’t connect.

“He doesn’t know you’re coming?” Bokuto asks.

“Well, no.  I’ve been trying to call him or mail him but there’s like one phone mast near the campsite.”

“Oh.”

Bokuto drums his fingers noiselessly on the steering wheel.

“What?”

“Well.  It’s just that most people want some indication before you’re sprung on them.”

“You once jumped in the school pool with your clothes on after we won a game while the swim club was practicing.”

He laughs but then shakes his head. “That’s different.  I dunno.  Maybe he’d just like a little forewarning.”

Akaashi frowns at his phone.  Maybe Bokuto’s right.

“He’ll be happy to see me,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. “He says he misses me.”

Bokuto nods but, surprisingly, doesn’t say anything more.  He turns the music up and Akaashi closes his eyes to the rhythm of a song about Tom Sawyer.  He’ll be with Fukuhara soon and everything will make sense again.

Except, when they get to the campsite where they were staying, they’re told that the Tokai Artists Retreat was forcibly removed.

“Rowdy bunch, they were,” the owner says distastefully. “Ruined a toilet block.”

Akaashi smiles and hopes that he comes off as someone who would never damage public property. “Do you know where they went?”

“Wish I did.  They still owe me for that toilet.”

He slumps back to the car, feeling down and Bokuto puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, don’t give up.  Let’s ask around--someone’s bound to have seen them.”

Akaashi perks up.  He’s right.  It’s not like they’re traveling incognito. In fact, they stop into a café and bakery, and the second they drop the name, all of the workers are tittering.

“Some damn futen zoku, they were,” one of the cashiers, a boy with dyed red hair and a nose ring, says with a Kansai accent. “Got kicked off the campsite for being too rowdy.”

Bokuto is talking to the cutest cashier as he flicks his jet black curls from his face and Akaashi can’t help but feel some kind of way about that.

“Did they say where they were going?” he asks, ignoring Bokuto and Cutie.

“I think their leader guy, Kitoaji, said something about knowing someone near Isumi and they were gonna head there.”

Akaashi can’t help but wrinkle his nose. “Kitoaji.”

The boy grins. “Oh, he was a prick.  I slapped him around for touching my ass.”

“If you’d like, I can slap him again when I see him.”

“Yeah!” He lets out a loud,  _ ka ka ka _ laugh. “Tell him it’s from Naruko and that he still owes me four hundred yen for his espresso.”

Akaashi bids farewell and has to drag Bokuto away from the curly-haired cute one partially because a blond boy near the stock room was glaring daggers at him.

“Come on.  I have a lead.”

“You got it, detective Akaashi!”

He blushes a bit. “Oh, come on.”

Once they’re back in the car, he tells Bokuto where they’re going and he perks up, grinning brightly like a little boy.

“Ooh, the ocean!”

The drive is uneventful and Akaashi is grateful for the lack of traffic.  Bokuto’s not a bad driver, either, if a little fast.  He takes turns a bit too quickly as well, though, and Akaashi finds himself wincing and pressing an imaginary brake whenever he turns sharply.  Without warning, the beach is suddenly spread out in front of them.  Sand and surf and miles of glorious sky.  Akaashi feels his mouth slip open.  Bokuto pulls into a space since driving around aimlessly will get them nowhere and he finds himself marveling at the ocean.

“Akaashi...d’you wanna go for a paddle?”

“Sure.”

He unbuckles and kicks his shoes and socks off.  He rolls up his jeans and dashes for the surf.  The water stings his calves and waves roll up, threatening to soak his cuffed jeans.  Akaashi tilts his face up and savors the salty air.  This...this makes him forget his troubles.  The late afternoon sun is slanting on his face and the coolness of his water laps over his legs.  He feels a hand gently touch the small of his back and looks over to see Bokuto.

“You didn’t wait for me,” he says, smiling a goofy smile.

The beach is fairly crowded since it’s midsummer, but it’s like it’s only the two of them wading in and splashing one another.  Bokuto is smiling and laughing and looks like he wants to propel himself in the air to do cannonball.  Akaashi looks at him, backed by the sun and sprayed with salt water and bites his lip, unsure how he feels.

He splashes back ashore and crunches over the sand to get to the car.  That was almost too much.  He sits in the seat, airing his legs out in front of him through the open door, and tries Fukuhara again.

“Hello?”

He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hey--guess where I am.”

He hears a sigh on the other line.

“Is this gonna take a while, Keiji, because I’m kind of busy.”

“Isumi.”

Fukuhara doesn’t speak for a moment.

“You’re not usually big on the spontaneity.  What’s up?”

Akaashi bites his lip.  Bokuto has gotten back in the car and is trying to look like he isn’t listening in when he is.

“Things in Tokyo were getting out of control--I needed to see you.”

“You make me sound like some kind of guru.” He laughs and Akaashi feels like it’s rehearsed.

A little voice begins chanting in his head:  _ He doesn’t want to see you.  He doesn’t want to see you. _

“I was trying to get in contact with you all day.”

“Yeah...you’ll want directions, right?”

He gives them and Akaashi thanks him and hangs up.  He feels kind of down, scared.

“Got it,” Bokuto says when he tells him. “I don’t think that’s far from here.”

He’s glad that Bokuto has a surprisingly good sense of direction for someone who could never remember where he left his kneepads.

When they arrive in the little parade of shops, it’s twilight and the lights are just coming on.  Bokuto parks the car and points over to a group of people about their age.

“That them?”

Akaashi looks up and there he is.  Fukuhara waves and he’s seized with a moment of not knowing what to do.  He looks different: wearing a tank top and shorts and tan--so much more untouchable than he was back home and wearing all black.

“Keiji!” he says, walking over.

“Michio,” he whispers and feels a nudge from behind.  He looks up and sees Bokuto smiling.

“Go on, then.”

He walks towards him and takes his hand.  Fukuhara’s hand tenses but then squeezes it gently.

“Hey--we were going to get dinner but the noodle placed is closed.  Closed!  Anyway, what’s Bokuto doing here?”

He’s talking very fast as if to make up for the awkwardness of his arrival.

“He drove me.”

“Oh.  Well, let me introduce you to everyone.  Have you met Inoue-kun?”

Akaashi lets himself be led away.  He can’t help but look back at Bokuto and feel a pang of regret but he isn’t sure over what.

\--

Bokuto settles into a seat at table in the local bar and inn and tries to make his glass of beer last until Akaashi gets back.  Or at least comes to his senses.  He’s the smartest person Bokuto knows but he’s so clueless that he can’t see the truth in front of him, especially when it’s wearing his boyfriend’s smarmy face.  The famous boyfriend, he thinks, isn’t all that.  Or even half that.  He’s weedy and skinny and has that curled lip artist sneer like Bokuto is something he found on the bottom of his shoe.

And he saw the looks he was giving his artsy pals and nudges like “get a load of this” and how he shied away from the hand holding.  He also saw the way his hand skimmed the ass of the boy next to him like that was where it really wanted to be.  Bokuto doesn’t want Akaashi to be hurt but he wants him to realize it and, when he comes in, he’ll help him pick up the pieces.

He sighs heavily--he knows he’s always had issues with impulse control but he has to truly be in love to haul his ass all the way to the coast just for Akaashi.  He isn’t sure why he got it in him to visit him but he wasn’t doing anything else and.  He loves him.  This trip just confirmed it.  He swears that something happened at the beach or was going to happen, anyway.  He isn’t sure what’s going on in Akaashi’s head.  Unlike Bokuto, he’s never worn his emotions on his sleeve.

The door to the in flies open and Akaashi staggers in like he was stabbed.  His face is drained of color and he looks ill.  His eyes find Bokuto’s and he rushes into his arms.  For the second time this week, his arms are full of Akaashi.  Except this time, he’s crying.  He rubs his nose against Bokuto’s chest, smearing it with snot.

“What’s wrong?” he asks even though he can guess.

“It was awful,” he says quietly, tearfully. “The entire time, he acted like I was some great big bother.”

Bokuto strokes his hand down his back.

“I’m sure he was happy to see you.  He wanted you there.”

Akaashi shakes his head and quivers in his arms.  Bokuto holds him fast and his hair is tickling his chin and he’s tempted to drop little kisses in it but he won’t.

“What do you need?” he asks.

“A drink,” he admits. “And I haven’t got any money.”

Bokutos gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile and pulls out his wallet. “What do you want?”

He sighs wearily and wipes at his eyes with his wrists.

“Vodka,” he says. “With ice and plum syrup.”

Bokuto looks around at their surroundings. “I don’t think this place’ll have plum syrup but I can check.”

“Just lemon’s fine,” he says. “And food...I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

He bites his lip.

“I think the kitchen’s closed.”

Akaashi’s face crumples and he looks so small and vulnerable that Bokuto wants to scoop him up and never let him go.

“I’ll see what they can do.”

When he comes back with the bar with Akaashi’s drink (they didn’t have syrup but it’s garnished with a large lemon wedge), another beer for him and an assortment of chips, Akaashi’s sitting at the table, holding his backpack to him like a life preserver.

“Here,” he says and puts it all on the table.

Akaashi opens a bag of prawn chips and looks at him as Bokuto sits back down. “He wants an open relationship.  I think he’s been seeing other people.”

“Other people?”

He nods and sighs. “There was this boy who kept giving me the filthiest looks and he kept pulling him away to talk to him.”

This isn’t a surprise to Bokuto but he gives Akaashi a comforting arm stroke nonetheless.  People always peg him as stupid or clueless and he knows he isn’t as observant as Kuroo but he knows what he saw.

Akaashi alternates bites of chips with sips of his drink and looks down.

“I wish it were easy.  You and Kuroo...I wish it were easy like that.”

“It’s not that easy.”

His and Kuroo’s arrangement is spontaneous and whenever they’re bored and, mostly, used to distract himself from his love for Akaashi.  It’s simple, not easy, and for some reason the slight difference is important.

“Still.  And here I was…” he sighs. “So we broke up.  I mean, an open relationship is one thing but to have it sprung on me that way is…”

He lowers his gaze and his expression becomes remote.

“I’m sorry, Akaashi.”

He shrugs and digs his fingers into his glass to fish out some ice.  It’s getting close to last call and Bokuto can just afford to get him another drink, if he wants.

“Where are we going to sleep?” Akaashi asks suddenly.

This time it’s Bokuto’s turn to shrug.

“You’re going to sleep in the back of the Bug while I drive us to Tokyo.”

“What?” he says, and looks up. “There’s not nearly enough room and you need to sleep too, Bokuto-san.  You’ve been driving all day and you’ve been drinking.”

He waves him off.

“It’s beer.”

“No, no.” His words are starting to slur a bit and it seems that the vodka’s hitting him. “We should rent a room here.  The sign out front says so.”

“I can’t afford that.”

Akaashi fishes into his pocket and pulls out a credit card.

“For emergencies,” he says. “And...get me another drink on it?”

Bokuto nods.

“And one for yourself...thank you, Bokuto-san.  For all of this.”

He takes his hand and Bokuto nearly has a coronary.  He lets out a loud cry and jumps back.

“Any time.  I’ll be right back.”

The only room available has a double bed but the proprietor said that there’s a futon in the closet so Bokuto figures he’ll sleep on that.  He plonks the keys on the table and hands Akaashi his drink.  He has a beer for himself but he dumps in two shots of vodka, figuring getting drunk as Akaashi is wouldn’t be a bad idea.  Halfway through his second drink, Akaashi is stroking his finger down the hair by Bokuto’s temple.

“Your hair is so soft here,” he says. “Why do you put all that gunk in it?  It looked good this morning.”

Bokuto just gulps and downs his vodka-fortified beer.  By the time they make their way to the room, they’re both pretty inebriated.  Bokuto pitches into the room, swinging the door open.

“One bed,” he says loudly. “But...futon…”

Akaashi nods and flops down on the bed.

“Ugh,” he moans. “It’s been an awful day but I’m not tired.  I wish we had more to drink.”

Bokuto sits in the seat near the window and nods.

“I can get my pipe out of the car if you’d like.”

Akaashi stares at him, his gaze at once sleepy and alert, and nods.

“Yeah.  Okay.”

He gets the baggie and the little blown glass owl-shaped pipe from his car and, when he returns, Akaashi is sitting on the bed with his knees drawn up.  The moon spills into the room, making it appear a milky, almost supernatural blue.  It lights Akaashi up in ways that make him undeniably beautiful: carving shadows on his cheeks and darkening his eyes.  He watches him pack the bowl and light it.  Bokuto doesn’t smoke often but, whenever he does, it calms in a way nothing else can.  It takes all of his jangling, banging thoughts and draws them into a neat little balloon that floats up above his head.  He exhales as he passes the pipe to Akaashi who tokes on it gently.

“Indirect kiss,” he murmurs and Bokuto hears himself let out a little sound.

They pass it back until it’s all burned and Bokuto drops it back in the bag.  Akaashi is giggling a little now and he doesn’t seem as upset.

“I loved him so much,” he says quietly, the giggles dying. “I might be sounding paranoid but I think he was cheating on me before he even left.  He kept talking about Inoue-kun all the time and I just.  I…”

Tears well up in his eyes and he closes them before pressing his forehead against his knees.  Bokuto strokes his back gently.  Akaashi looks up and gives him a beseeching look and he puts his arms around his waist.  They lie down on the bed and Bokuto places his chin on his shoulder.

“You’re kissing my neck,” he says quietly.

“No...your hair is just tickling my lips.”

Akaashi stills and then says. “It’s okay.”

“It is?”

“You always cheer me up, Bokuto-san...your texts always make me laugh.”

“I was afraid I texted you too much.”

“A little.  But still.”

He shifts in Bokuto’s arms and brings his back flush against him.  There’s so much of Akaashi touching him and he’s drunk and high and super aware of every sensation.

“Bokuto-san…” he murmurs.

Akaashi pulls away from him and sits up on his knees.  His eyes are rimmed with red and the flush of inebriation has paled out.  His hair is staticky and sticking up and his eyebrows are drawn in.

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

Bokuto sits up and stares at him, wide-eyed.

“What?”

“I…” He breathes out. “I just feel like it would be better.  If we kissed.”

He’s wanted to hear Akaashi say those words so badly for so long but this is wrong.

“I know why you’re doing this.”

He can hear himself speaking slowly, gravely, and Akaashi looks at him.

“Okay--why am I doing this?”

“Because you’re sad and stoned and your boyfriend’s a tool.”

“Ex,” he says testily. “Ex-boyfriend.  And, yeah, that covers about sixty-seven percent of it.  Do you know the other thirty-three percent?”

He shakes his head.  Akaashi draws him close and trails his fingers down Bokuto’s hairline.

“Because I’m thinking about  _ your _ lips and  _ your  _ hands and how you drove me here when you didn’t have to and you make me laugh and, yeah, I’m pretty stoned right now.”

Bokuto wants so badly just to kiss him and he’s giddy enough from the hash to give it a shot but.

“I can’t let you kiss me off in the morning.  My heart can’t take it.”

“I wouldn’t.  Come here.”

And then they’re kissing and Bokuto feels him all up against him, his scent and taste filling him.  Holding Akaashi so, so close to him.  He puts his hands in the dip of his back and kisses him.  He feels his tongue touch his and the little puffs of air coming out of his nose.  And he tastes like weed and prawn chips and the sour edge of vodka but he doesn’t care.  All that matters is that he’s kissing Akaashi.  Time stands still and it’s just them and the moonlight.  Akaashi pulls back, his lips red and wet.

“Bokuto-san.” His name sounds like a moan.  He watches Akaashi take his jeans off and his heart accelerates. “Feel.”

He bites his lip and looks at him almost coyly as he takes Bokuto’s hand and guides it to his crotch.

“I’m soaked,” he says with a soft, gentle laugh.

“For me?”

“For you and.  Drinking makes me horny.” He laughs again but then it peters off and he looks off into the middle distance as if remembering something.  He kisses him again. “We aren’t going to have sex.  Not tonight--not yet.”

Bokuto doesn’t think he would be able to deal with actually having sex with him, now.  His heart is fit to burst and he’s rock hard in his jeans.

“No...but we can do other things.”

Akaashi smiles. “We can.”

They stay up half the night doing other things.  It’s dreamy and out of focus but he knows it’s happening.  Knows that he’s hearing Akaashi moan out his name.  Knows what his mouth feels like wrapped around him and the heady feeling of being three fingers deep inside him and hearing “Koutarou!” strangled and familiar.  And in the morning, he’s still there, wrapped up in his arms, and Bokuto doesn’t even mind the hangover.

On the ride home, Akaashi sits with his legs up and his shoes off, a slight smile on his mouth.

“This is good,” he says. “I’m glad.  This trip wasn’t a waste.”

He smiles at Bokuto and now he knows that smile is for him.

“I felt bad,” he continues and it’s rare for Akaashi to speak this much so Bokuto keeps his mouth shut. “I had kissed a guy at the club the other night and felt bad but he’s been cheating on me for a while and.  I guess.”

Bokuto almost curses himself for declining going to the club.

“You do get horny when you’re drunk,” he says instead.

“Kuroo-san is a good kisser,” he adds. “I can see why you two had your arrangement.”

Bokuto nearly slams on the brakes.

“Kuroo?  You made out with Kuroo?”

He nods.  Kuroo, his bro.  Kuroo his fuckbuddy.  Kuroo who has known for years that he likes Akaashi.  The fact that it’s worked out doesn’t matter right now, he’s just consumed with anger that his best friend, his bro, made out with Akaashi.

“Bokuto-san?”

He shakes his head.  It’s between him and Kuroo--not Akaashi.

“It’s fine,” he says with a grin. “Let’s see how fast I can make it back to the city, huh?”


	6. Share Your Thoughts There's Nothing You Can Hide

Oikawa yawns and props his chin up on the bar.  Iwaizumi is actually back there, cooking steaks for some of the customers and so he can’t bother.  He blows air into the straw to make his soda bubble up.  Little pops of carbonation fizz to the top and one almost gets him in the eye.  He jerks back and almost falls off of the stool.  Seated next to him, Kageyama doesn’t even notice.  Oikawa wrinkles his nose.  His former kouhai looks miserable.  He has purple dents under his eyes and his hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in days.  He’s curled up around his fourth beer.

“You could say hi, Tobio-chan,” he huffs.

Kageyama shrugs and plops some coins on the counter.  He gets up without a word and stumbles towards the door.  Oikawa opens his mouth to say more but then shuts it when he sees his keys on the bar.

“He’s still a useless little...” Oikawa sighs and scoops them up. “Tobio-cha--”

He’s already gone and he realizes that now he has a responsibility with these keys.  He shifts them in his hand, hearing the metal clink over metal and wonders what Kageyama uses all of them for.  He should keep them just to spite him.  Long held resentment, after all.  He can already see Iwaizumi’s disapproving stare in his mind’s eye and he sighs again.  He hops off of his stool and heads out of the bar.  He heads in the direction of the nearest station, figuring that’s where Kageyama is heading.  He sees his tall form (though not as tall, of course, as Oikawa himself) a few meters ahead of him.

“Tobio-chan!” he calls mockingly and lets the keyring dangle from his index finger. “You forgot these!”

Kageyama starts to turn and then stumbles and collapses to the ground.  Oikawa stares at him for a moment, unsure what he’s seeing.  He jogs towards him and crouches down.

“Tobio-chan?” He lifts open his eyelid to see if he’ll get a reaction but all he sees is an unfocused eye and pupils the size of pinpricks. “Shit!”

He digs in his pocket for his phone and dials 119 as quickly as he can.  As he waits for it to connect, he hears echoes in his own mind.  Makki screaming for Mattsun to call 911.  Their voices going in and out of focus and blood, so much blood.  Oikawa manages to relay as much information as he can to the operator and prods Kageyama with his finger.

“Come on.  What’s all this?”

He looks down and sees a little bulge in Kageyama’s pocket.  Against his better judgment, he pushes against the denim until he can see the white lid of a pill bottle sticking up out of the pocket.  He slips it out and sees that it’s empty.

“Codeine,” he reads. “Oh, Tobio-chan.”

He rides with him in the ambulance because no one else is there and the paramedic thinks he’s his friend.  Thinks he’s anything to him.  Oikawa puts his hand on his covered sleeve and tries to breathe as he sits there and watches them pump Kageyama’s stomach.  This noxious black fluid flows into his mouth and he begins to retch.  Oikawa clutches the keys in his hand and thinks he should text someone, anyone.  Iwaizumi’s face swims into his mind’s eye but he’d probably just tell him to get out of there before the sight of him kills Kageyama.  He feels like his mind is falling out of sync with his body because the next thing he’s aware of is sitting next to Kageyama and the sky outside is starting to gray with the promise of dawn.  His body is ragged but he remembers, dimly, getting orange juice from the vending machine.  He reaches for his pocket before he remembers that Iwaizumi has his blood sugar monitor.  He’s tired but he feels okay, he thinks.  He stares at his phone and sees the missed calls and texts.  All from Iwaizumi.  He doesn’t bother to read them, just tells him where he is.  Who he’s with.  What happened.

Oikawa turns his gaze towards Kageyama’s still form.  He’ll be alright, the doctors said.  He’s lucky he got to him when he did.  He’s a good friend.

“You just have to copy me in everything huh, Tobio-chan?” he asks.  No answer, of course. “Was yours on purpose?  Mine was.”

He closes his eyes and presses the pads of his thumbs against the lids.

“I was struggling.  Drinking.  Depressed.  And.  More than that.  I don’t know what it is but my mind is.  Well.  Anyway, haha, I took a bunch of Ibuprofin and cut myself up.  My friends Makki and Mattsun were supposed to come get me to go to the Viper Room and they found me.  They...saved me.” He leans back and laughs. “I dropped out of school.  That was two years ago.  Don’t tell Iwa-chan, alright?”

Kageyama is still on the bed.  Oikawa bits his upper lip and shifts in his chair.  He can probably leave, he thinks.  Kageyama’s stable but.  He’s alone.  Lying there, he can’t help but think he looks like he did in middle school.  Fragile-looking and delicate.  Easy to break, shatter.

The door to the hospital room bangs open.  He hears a nurse yelling about Kageyama not being up to new vistors but the tangerine blur doesn’t seem to care.

“Chibi-chan,” he says and his exhaustion is catching up with him since he can’t even muster to modulate his voice. “Who told you?”

“I did.”

He turns and sees that skittish blond manager from Karasuno.  She’s dressed in scrubs and has her hair held back by butterfly clips.

“Kageyama-kun...Tobio.” Hinata is in bed with him, curled up next to his prone form. “I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.”

Oikawa knows how he’s intruding so he leaves.  He did what he had to do.  He didn’t let him die.  He trudges towards the doors to the hospital and stops when he sees someone standing there.  Iwaizumi is glaring at him, fists balled at his side.

“What?” he asks innocently.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” Iwaizumi grabs him roughly and throws his arm around his shoulders. “Come on.”

Oikawa blinks for a moment and then laughs.  This, of course, earns him a smack on the arm.

“Stop laughing, asshole!”

\--

Kageyama wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.  He hears something beeping and he reaches for his alarm only for his arm to be stopped.  There’s a painful tugging at the back of his hand and he stares down at it to see an IV sticking out of it.  He sits up and looks down at the white sheets he’s lying in.  Bewildered, he looks around.  This is a hospital room.  He stares down at the bracelet around his wrist with his name on it.  He looks back up and sees Hinata sitting in the chair next to him.

“Hinata,” he croaks.

He looks like he’s about to cry and Kageyama feels a pang of sadness.  He’s made Hinata cry all too much recently.

“I thought I lost you.” He lowers his head, strangely reserved.

“What happened?  I was walking home…”

“You overdosed.”

“Oh.”

“The Great King brought you here.”

“Oikawa?”

Hinata nods and lets out a shuddering, shaking wail.  He leans over the bed and drops his head on Kageyama’s lap.  Kageyama goes to ruffle his hair but stops.  He can’t do that anymore.

“I have a problem.” He stares at his hands and swallows. “I.  I don’t even care about the overdose.  I mean...I do but.  It cost me you.”

Hinata looks up and takes his hand.  He stares at him intently, his gaze set and determined.

“You haven’t lost me, yet.”

He leans in and kisses him gently.  Kageyama feels a sob choke his throat and he leans in towards the kiss.

“We’ll work on it,” Hinata says when they break apart. “Just.  No more lies, okay?”

Kageyama nods.

“Good.” He kisses him again and jumps to his feet. “I gotta tell Yachi-san you’re awake.”

Kageyama looks around the bed.

“I’ll be here.”

He doesn’t mean the hospital bed and Hinata seems to get it because his lips curve up in a smile.  His eyes are tired and Kageyama wonders if he’s been awake this entire time.  No wonder he isn’t his usual bouncy self.  It’s his fault.  He rests against his pillows and stares up at the ceiling.  He can’t let Hinata cry again like this.  He also thinks that he should probably thank Oikawa.

\--

Oikawa sits at the kitchen table, eating a piece of toast slathered with peanut butter.  Day and night no longer matter, he thinks, as he has no idea what time it is except close to dawn.  Iwaizumi sits across from him, his brows drawn in and his face set in a scowl.

“You feeling alright?”

“Yes.  Thank you, Iwa-chan.”

He grunts in response.  On the table is an American tabloid opened to a bookmarked page.  Mattsun and Makki sent it not that long ago.  A few years back, they had appeared on some party reality show that launched them into semi-stardom.  Now they went to clubs and parties in Los Angeles and New York with other half-baked celebrities.  Seeing their blurry, paparazzi pictures brings him back to that night again.  Too many memories.

“You’re a hero,” Iwaizumi says in a sarcastic drawl.

“Well.” He shrugs. “Someone has to be.”

Iwaizumi shoves him. “Come off it.”

He grins at him, showing his peanut butter-covered teeth.  Iwaizumi pretends to retch at the sight of it.

“So...it’s been a week or so.  Are you gonna tell me why you came back?”

Oikawa closes his eyes and groans.

“Do we have to do this now?  I’ve had a shitty night.”

“Not as shitty as Kageyama,” is the immediate reply.

“Oh, always take  _ his _ side, why don’t you?”

He bites angrily into his piece of toast.

“Don’t change the subject.”

Oikawa swallows, frowns, and knows he has to face the music.  He looks at the faces of Mattsun and Makki in the tabloid in front of him and puts his hand over it.

“I dropped out of school,” he says. “Two years ago.”

He takes another breath and rolls up his sleeves.

“And I tried to kill myself.”

Iwaizumi stares at him for a long time and takes his arm gently in his hands.  He strokes his fingers on the inside of Oikawa’s arms

“You never told me.”

“I never  _ told _ anyone.” He watches him trail his fingers up and down his arms through a half-lidded gaze. “Mattsun and Makki were the ones who found me and I was on scholarship so my parents didn’t know until I came home.”

“So you were dealing with this all by yourself?”

He shrugs and withdraws his arm. “It’s what I always do.”

Iwaizumi flares his nostrils and glares. “And it always fucks you up.  Goddamnit, Tooru.”

He studies his face and it hits Oikawa like a slap in the face.  Iwaizumi is hurt.  He looks at him, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed and he’s seized with the desire to kiss them.

“I know.  I’m trying to get back on the path.  I’m...trying to be good now.  I’m home.  I’m with you.”

Oikawa doesn’t mean for it to sound romantic, but it makes the other man blush nonetheless.  Iwaizumi takes his hand and brings it to his lips.  He kisses the tips of his fingers and Oikawa feels the press of them against the little marks left from when he checks his blood sugar.

“Iwa-chan...what are you…?”

“I don’t know but don’t talk and make me start thinking about it.”

He nods and puts his piece of toast down.  It’s only crust now, anyway.  He leans forward and slips from his chair into Iwaizumi’s lap.  They stare at each other and then they’re kissing.  He feels the rasp of Iwaizumi’s stubble against his face and the solid heat of his hands at his middle.  He pulls back and studies him.

“What was that about?”

“I was thinking of you back then...alone and scared and.  If I were there.  And...shit.  I’m bad at this.  I just.  Never thought of you like that but kissing felt so right.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa puts his fingers to his own lips where they seem to tingle. “So now what?”

“Well...now I want to kiss you again.”

He smiles. “No one’s stopping you, Iwa-chan.”

He captures his lips once more, their mouths slotting together like they were meant to be.  Oikawa balls his hands in Iwaizumi’s shirt and deepens it.

“You smell like the grill,” he whispers.

“And you smell like antiseptic and peanut butter.  Let’s not start.”

Oikawa sits back and looks Iwaizumi over as if he’s seeing him for the first time and, maybe, he is.  He takes his stomach in his hands and shakes it.

“I love your chubby belly, by the way,” he chirps. “It’s so cute.”

He growls and smacks his hands away. “Don’t even.”

Oikawa rests his forehead on his shoulder. “Let’s go to your room.”

Iwaizumi strokes a hand down his back.

“Are you sure?  Isn’t it a little fast?”

He pulls back so he can make eye contact with him while he laughs.

“Iwa-chan...I think twenty years is taking it slow.”

“Bullshit we’ve waited twenty years.”

Oikawa rests his head back on his shoulder and turns so he can plant little kisses on his neck.

“Think about it.  Because in the seventeen seconds since we’ve kissed I’ve realized I’ve wanted to kiss you my entire life.”

“Stop being cheesy.  It’s giving me the shits.”

He nuzzles him gently. “So romantic, Iwa-chan.”

He feels Iwaizumi shrug under him and holds tight to him.  It’s better, getting it all off of his chest.  Letting more people in--no, letting  _ Iwaizumi _ in because he’s more important than anyone else.  Oikawa sits back up so he can kiss him again.

“So...your room?”

Iwaizumi nods.  He gets down off of his lap and dumps his plate in the sink.  Iwaizumi’s lucky he has him--his apartment is a mess.  He reaches out to take his hand and they walk into the bedroom together.  Oikawa lets go as they enter and walks slowly towards the bed.  He slips his shirt off over his head and glances over his shoulder before undoing his jeans.  He sees Iwaizumi lick his lips as he watches undress.  Oikawa hooks his thumbs in his underwear and pulls them off along with his jeans.  He kicks them off and turns around, fully naked.

“Your turn.” He trails his fingers down his collarbone and bites his lip.

Iwaizumi tugs the pants he wore to work down and then pulls off his t-shirt.  He’s still in his underwear and Oikawa can see his erection tenting the boxers.  Oikawa takes a step towards him and tugs them own.  It’s dark in the room with the curtains drawn but he knows he’s blushing.

He takes his hand again and draws him to the bed.  Oikawa lays out across it, pulling Iwaizumi with him so he’s on top of him.  He looks at his face in the early morning gloom and kisses him deeply.  He feels his hands trail up and down his sides, ghosting over the skin.

“Are you all good?” Oikawa asks.  He can’t help but smile when he says, “All prepared?”

Iwaizumi scowls but then nods. “Top drawer.”

“Good.”

He kisses him again, clenching his lower lip between his teeth like a piece of fruit.  They make love slowly, languidly.  Oikawa runs his hands over Iwaizumi’s body acquainting and reacquainting himself with every part of him.  Finding the little nooks and crannies that make him moan.  Their bodies move together as if to a song only they can hear.

The sun is coming up as they lie together, spent, and Oikawa can see the light against the curtains.  He curls up against Iwaizumi and presses hot, breathless kisses on his neck.

“We should do that more often,” he says.

“You mean I should tell you about my suicide attempts and then we fuck?”

“Stop being...you, asswipe...there was more than one?”

He shakes his head.

“No...not deliberately anyway.” Oikawa reaches down to lace their fingers together. “But we can do it again.  We can do it a lot.”

Iwaizumi eyes him sleepily but warily at the same time.

“What’s that mean?”

He grins cheekily.

“It means you’re stuck with me, Iwa-chan.”

He feigns a moan of despair.

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to imagine what cheesy 80s ballad iwaizumi and oikawa are making love to. i prefer "faithfully" by journey


	7. Modern Love Walks On By

Kuroo looks at the e-mail displayed on his laptop and frowns.  Another graduate offer.  It talks about how good his marks were and how the biology department would be happy to help him pick a track to continue his studies.  Kuroo drinks from a can of beer--his own, for once.  The program looks tempting but the late lab hours are a bit of a concern.  It’s not that he thinks that Kenma can’t last on his own until Kuroo gets back, it’s that he deliberately won’t.  He’ll play his games all day and not realize what time it is.  Still, Kenma wouldn’t want him to give up on school just for him.

He takes another sip of beer and yawns.

“How’s Hinata?” he calls into the living room.

Kenma looks up from his phone and says, “He’s fine.  He and Kageyama are going home now.”

Kuroo had heard from Tom about Kageyama’s overdose and, of course Kenma was the first person Hinata told about their reconciliation.

“That’s good.”

Truth be told, Kuroo’s a little glad that Hinata isn’t living in their house anymore.  Between him and Bokuto, it’s a bit too much.  Speaking of which.

“Where’s Bo?”

Kenma shrugs.

As if hearing his own name, the door bangs open.  Kenma jumps a little, his eyes wide.  His phone slips from his hands.  Kuroo sighs.  Bokuto forgets how jarring, loud noises freak Kenma out way too often.

“Bro, come on--” he starts

Bokuto slams the door, cutting him off.  Kenma crawls up onto the couch and puts his hands over his ears.  Kuroo is about to get up to go to him but Bokuto’s storming towards him, his face bright red and screwed up in anger.

“What’s your problem?” he asks and stands up, hoping to shield himself behind his laptop.  He has a feeling he knows why Bokuto’s upset.

“What’s my problem?” he demands. “You made out with Akaashi!  That’s my problem!”

Kuroo takes his beer can away from his laptop and inches towards the sink to put it up and avoid this conversation.

“Okay...yeah.  But we were drunk.”

“You think that matters?  Bro, you’re supposed to be my best friend and you made out with Akaashi when you  _ knew _ that I liked him.”

Bokuto shoves him with both hands and Kuroo stumbles back into the counters.  He catches himself and glares.

“It was just kissing.  It’s not like we fucked.”

“Kissing’s even worse!”

Kuroo throws his arms out in exasperation.

“How is it worse?”

Bokuto stumbles over his tongue and shakes his head rapidly.

“I don’t know but it’s the same!”

“That doesn’t even--” Kuroo wipes his hand over his face. “Alright, I’m sorry.  Even though we were drunk, I shouldn’t have made out with Akaashi.  Is that better?”

“You don’t sound like you mean it.”

Bokuto folds his arms over his chest and pouts.  Kuroo notices for the first time since he blew in there that his hair isn’t styled and he’s wearing the same clothes as he did yesterday.

“Where were you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Kuroo’s growing impatient but he bites the inside of his cheek.  This is just Bokuto.  He flies off the handle at every little thing.

“What do you want me to say?  I’m sorry--really, I am.”

Bokuto studies his face for a moment and then his shoulders drop.

“Alright.  I just...I dunno.  We had that thing and then Akaashi and.  I dunno.”

Kuroo puts his arm around him and smacks his fist on Bokuto’s chest.

“I get it, bro.  So...where were you?”

A sly smile crosses his face when he says, “Chiba.  With Akaashi.”

“Oh ho ho?”

He nods gleefully.

“Yeah.  He broke up with his boyfriend and we’re sorta...y’know.”

“Bro!”

Bokuto looks so genuinely happy, Kuroo can ignore the fact that he kind of smells like stale car.

“Nice.  I speak from authority that Akaashi’s a good kisser.”

His face falls and he shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Alright--fair.  Got it.”

Kuroo’s about to say more but is cut off by the sliding door to their balcony opening and then slamming shut.  He looks back to the couch and finds it empty.

“Kenma?”

\--

It’s hot outside and it smells like gasoline despite how high up they are.  Kenma sticks his legs through the railings and rests his forehead between two of them, trying to take deep and even breaths.  Bokuto’s entrance and screaming already put his nerves on end and then.  Kuroo kisses Akaashi.  He shouldn’t be surprised.  If he isn’t taking up with Bokuto, he’s off with other people.  Throughout college, Kenma would hear him with someone through the wall or otherwise be left alone while Kuroo spent the night elsewhere.  He can never be enough for Kuroo.  Kuroo who kissed Akaashi.

His nerves are jangled and mangled.  One time, when they were little, Kuroo gave him a bracelet with dangling skeleton charms on it that shook whenever he moved.  He found it on the playground and gave it to Kenma.  His nerves feel like those skeletons with their plastic, glow-in-the-dark bodies, flailing and flopping at the slightest movement.

He hears the door slide open behind him and he knows it’s Kuroo.  He slides next to him and sticks his long legs through the railings.

“Kenma?” He isn’t touching him and he’s glad.  He couldn’t bear if even their shoulders were touching. “You alright?”

He hesitates and then shakes his head.

“Is it Bo?  He doesn’t mean to be so loud but I can get him to--”

“You kissed Akaashi.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kuroo give him a puzzled look.

“What?  That’s what this is about?”

Kenma chews his lips.  His chapped, bitten lips that Kuroo would never want to kiss.  Kenma and his broken mind and underfed, skeleton charm body.

“Ken, will you look at me?  Please?”

He turns a little and looks at Kuroo who now just looks concerned.  His hair is hanging in his face and sticking up as it always does no matter what he tries to do with it.  Once, in elementary school, he had claimed to the other kids that he was a Saiyan and that’s why his hair was like that.  Kenma had corroborated the story.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

Words bubble up in Kenma’s throat but they won’t make it past his lips.  He swallows and does the only thing he can--even though he knows he shouldn’t.  He leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to Kuroo’s lips.  Then he springs to his feet and runs away.

\--

Kuroo chases him out of the apartment, past Bokuto who’s staring at them both in mild confusion, and into the hall.  Kenma is small and possibly slightly malnourished but he can move.  Kuroo follows him.

“Kenma!”

He sees him dart into the elevator and springs forward with a surge of speed to get in there before the doors close.  Kenma flattens himself against the back of the elevator and Kuroo holds his hands up placatingly.  The doors slide closed but neither move to choose a floor.

“Kenma...why did you kiss me?”

Kenma slumps down on the floor and cradles his head between his legs.  Kuroo crouches next to him.

“Do you need me to open the door?”

“No.  I’m just embarrassed.”

“Because you kissed me?”

He nods.  Kuroo shifts his mouth from side to side and rubs his hand under his chin.  He never thought about his feelings being reciprocated.

“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m glad you kissed me.”

Kenma lifts his head a little. “You are?”

He knows he has to choose his words carefully.  Everything feels so precarious.

“Yeah.  So I didn’t have to.”

“What?”

Kuroo licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“I think I’m in love with you.  And I was.  Terrified.  That it would ruin our friendship.”

Kenma stares at him, his gaze faraway and his mouth downturned.  Kuroo stands up and reaches his hand out to him.  Kenma takes it and lets Kuroo pull him to his feet.

“So what do we do now?” he asks quietly.

Kuroo looks at the closed doors.

“I guess we get out of here and figure things out.”

He reaches to press the button to open the doors but something holds him back.  He turns and sees Kenma holding the hem of his shirt.  He tugs him back towards him and brings Kuroo down to kiss him again.  Kuroo is less caught off-guard by this one and puts his hands on Kenma’s waist.  He draws him close and savors the feel of his body against his.

“Alright, I think we should have been doing that for a lot longer.”

Kenma nods and presses his face into Kuroo’s chest.  He strokes his hands down his back, feeling the knobby bits of his spine under his finger.  Never did he think that he could have this.  That he could keep this closeness.  That they could be together.

“Kuro.”

He looks at him with a look of desperation, of words unsaid.  Kuroo tucks some hair behind his ear and smiles.

“You too.”

\--

They walk together to the Union like they do almost every night but it’s different.  Now Kuroo gets to hold Kenma’s hand.  He isn’t holding his PSP and Kuroo doesn’t have to steer him--for once.

“Battery’s dead,” he says but Kuroo knows that he wants to hold his hand.

“Mhmm.”

The night is dewy and warm as it always been but the air is crackling with change.  A new beginning.  Outside the door, Kuroo stills.

“So I’m thinking about going to school.  What do you think about having a hotshot biologist husband?”

Kenma regards him for a moment and then says, “Don’t dissect my brain.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Kuroo sets his mouth and then licks his lips. “But going back to school means I’m going to have a lot of lab hours.”

“I’ll be okay.  I’m an adult too, Kuroo.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re an adult.  It’s that I know how into your games you get.”

He taps his chin. “I’ll be sure to text Shouyo and we can set alarms so I remember to eat?”

Kuroo grins and pulls him against his chest.

“Perfect.” He looks down and says, “Kiss me.”

It’s easy and it’s natural and so, so perfect.  Kenma lets himself be drawn to his side as Kuroo ushers them both in the door.  It’s crowded inside.

Asahi is smiling softly to himself as he texts someone on his phone--presumably Nishinoya.  Next to him he sees Daichi and Suga.  They’re looking at one another and Kuroo pushes those keen observation skills he has to see that they look better.  Not picture perfect but not as fractured either.  He’s glad.

At another table, he sees Hinata and Kageyama sitting with Yachi and the other manager from Karasuno.  It seems to be a double date of sorts.  Hinata spots Kenma and jumps out of his seat.

“Kenma!”

His boyfriend (and how Kuroo loves to refer to him as such) lifts his hand in a wave.  Kageyama reaches up and pulls Hinata back down.  They look better.  Kageyama looks less gaunt and strung out and they seem happier.  At the bar, Oikawa is cheering for the Eels while Tom tells him it’s a lost cause.  Iwaizumi is rolling his eyes but Kuroo catches him sneaking fond glances when he thinks Oikawa isn’t looking.  Kuroo’s keen observation (and Kenma’s judging by the way he nudges him), picks up a vibe between them.  The giant, prune-like love bit on Iwaizumi’s neck seems to clue them both in as well.

“It seems everyone is getting together,” Kenma murmurs. “Or staying together.”

“Oh, gross.  We’re trend followers now.  Iwaizumi and Oikawa even have one over on us with the ‘childhood friends’ angle.”

Kenma hums a bit and leans into him.

“Something about the summer air, maybe.”

“Maybe.  Anyway, I see Bo.”

Anyone can see Bokuto, of course.  He’s standing up at a table and waving his arms like he’s adrift at sea and trying to flag down a rescue plane.  Akaashi sits next to him, a slightly exasperated but bemused smile on his face.  Kuroo makes his way over there and slides into a seat across from them.

“Who’re the Eels playing?” he asks.

“Rabbitohs,” Bokuto replies. “Tom says the Tigers play tomorrow, though.”

“Oh, nice.” He glances over his shoulder and says, “the Souths just got a try.”

Kenma glances at him curiously as Bokuto stares slack-jawed.

“You know the right words?”

“Of course.  I looked up the rules for rugby after our first night here.  I mean, I still have no idea what the announcers are saying but--just don’t tell Tom.  I love messing with him.”

Bokuto mimes locking his mouth and Akaashi shakes his head with laughter.  Kenma just curls up against him, tucking his head under Kuroo’s arm.  Bokuto drinks some of his beer, the head coming off on his nose and upper lip.  Akaashi chuckles and wipes it off with his finger before replacing it with his lips.  It seems all of them have passed some threshold in the past couples weeks.  As if, unknowingly, the summer had a test for them: a portal into adulthood.  Kuroo leans down and kisses the top of Kenma’s head.

“It’s been a weird time,” he says.

“Good weird,” Kenma amends.

“Yeah...good weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i somehow wrote this entire fic in the course of a week so. that happened. anyway, i hope people who read it enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> hmu at tumblr at http://vertigoats.tumblr.com or my public twitter @gatorposs!!!


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